


Woe To You Of Lion And Rose/ The Time For Wolves

by VVSIGNOFTHECROSS



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:18:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 70,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS/pseuds/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon Snow, a man, a bastard, a King. The North Remembers</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Letter

**11 th Month of 299 A.C. Greywater Watch**

**Lord Willam Dustin**

By the gods was it hot here, you’d think with winter coming, the damned neck would be cold, but no it was a damnable marsh and swamp and so it was bloody hot. He’d only ever passed through the Neck he’d never tried to stay here for long periods of time, there was something about it that made it seem unwelcoming and foreboding. He did not truly know what it was about the place that made him feel so off, but it was there nonetheless and he knew that Galbart and Maege felt the same, there were ill omens in the air and he did not like to think on their meaning. His men were none too happy coming here as well, they wanted to be there attacking the Moat, as did he, he wanted to see his wife again and feel her embrace. But no he had a duty to his king and he would wait until he received word before doing anything to contradict those orders.

The war had been going so well for them all, they had beaten the Lannisters in almost every single battle they had fought, and then things had begun to fall apart. The moment the king had sent Theon Greyjoy back to the islands they were doomed to fail, Willam had warned the king as such, but oh what it was to be young and headstrong and to believe too much in the goodness of people. The king and the north had paid for that folly when Theon Greyjoy and the Ironborn had invaded the north and Winterfell had fallen and been sacked. The king’s brothers had been killed, and the king had been wracked with grief. It was that and nothing else that had driven him into the arms of the girl, the Westerling girl who was no fit match for the king. And that had angered those weasel faced shits, Willam had offered to break their arms and legs for deserting but the King had denied him that pleasure.

Despite nearly a moon of trying the king and queen had yet to conceive a child when last Willam had seen them, and so the King had named his bastard brother Jon Snow as his heir until such a time that a son was born to him. Willam had been a witness alongside every lord apart from Bolton to the will and its contents and had affixed his seal to it as well. That the Lady Catelyn had accepted the decision just showed that Ned had been right to be open to her about his bastard son. Willam and his men as well as Galbert and Maege had taken ships from Seagard to the neck and from there they had wandered until they had been found by Howland, his old friend from those dark times.

And now it seemed his friend had news to bring, for he had asked for Willam himself, Galbert and Maege as well as Willam’s own son Roddy who had come with him whilst his eldest son and heir Durin remained with the king, into the room that was Howland’s solar. Howland looked grim as he asked them to sit down and then spoke. “My friend and source within the twins Allad Blackmyre has reported to me of what has happened at Lord Edmure’s wedding. It appears that the Freys decided that the King should pay for his breaking of the marriage pact. A most heinous crime, they murdered the king and his mother as well as those northmen and rivermen who were with them whilst Lord Edmure was bedding his wife. The King is dead.”

A shocked silence follows this and then Willam speaks. “How sure are you that this has happened? That such a violation of guest right has occurred?”

Howland looks at him and there and then he sees the truth of it in his friend’s eyes. “Allad would not lie to me Willam. And I would not lie to you. He saw it unfold with his own two eyes, and managed to get out because they did not know whom he was. The King is dead my lords and lady. And now it is down to us to ensure the cause is not lost.”

“How certain are you Howland?” Willam asks trying to keep his voice calm but feeling anger begin to grow inside of him. “What proof is there that the Young Wolf is dead?”

His friend is deathly silent and Willam feels anger and panic mix together, Durin was at the wedding. Eventually Howland responds. “Allad saw what they did to the body of the young wolf, they killed his wolf and then removed its head from its body, and then removed the head of the Young Wolf and sewed the head of the wolf onto his body. There was blood everywhere according to what Allad reports.”

The image is so visceral and disgusting that Willam has to close his eyes. “What of the others?”

“Allad does not know what happened to your son Willam, but he knows, in fact he saw Dacey Mormont die. I am sorry my lady.” Howland responds.

Galbert and Maege seem too stunned to speak and so Willam takes up the thread. “This, this betrayal of trust and honour is something that will never be forgotten or forgiven. This, this is a crime. And  we know for certain that this was not only Frey’s doing. The man is many things but brave he is not. He would never do something like this without protection. It reeks of Tywin Lannister and his lot, and then there is the matter of Bolton. Was he in on this?”

Silence and then Maege speaks her voice thick with grief. “It would not surprise me. We all know the Boltons have been more trouble than they are worth. Roose has always wanted that one thing that he could not have, and now he has it. Frey would not have done it without Tywin Lannister’s protection, but he also would not have done it had he not had someone in our own camp willing to do the honours himself.”

Willam can feel the anger begin to grow inside of him, his own goodbrother. Gods he can’t wait to kill the man. “He must have been planning for this all along. When Greyjoy left, and the Ironborn invaded, no wonder Snow began making moves, he knew his father would protect him. Gods dammit.” That last word is shouted.

Maege nods. “Aye, Ramsay Snow was always kept on a leash by Roose, it does not make sense for him to be cut free unless this was something Roose was always planning. And now he has that chance. The north is broken without a Stark to lead.”

“We are not completely broken. There is strength still here in the north. My wife can speak with her father and raise men ready for when the need arises. And we have this.” He holds up the will. “So long as we have this, we know that there is still at least one Stark still left alive who can help rally the north and defeat Bolton. The Young Wolf’s dream will not die.”

“But how will we ensure that? There are Ironborn in Moat Cailin, and Ramsay Snow prowls through the hinterlands. We must be careful of how we do everything from now on. Bolton will have the backing of the Lannisters and the Iron Throne. That means no one can be trusted.” Galbert reasons.

Willam looks at Galbert and then looks at Howland who speaks. “We of the neck know ways around Moat Cailin that will make it far easier for you to get to places north of the Moat without the Ironborn ever finding out or seeing you.”

Galbert does not seem convinced but Willam does not have the time nor the patience to argue with him and so he says. “Trust him Galbert. We do not have long. Sooner or later Roose Bolton and his allies shall be marching northward and we shall need to be prepared for when that time comes.”

“What do you suggest then Willam?” Maege Mormont asks.

“First of all we must make sure the Manderlys are onside. They are now the most powerful house in the north, they have ships and the most amount of men remaining, Galbert your brother should be in White Harbour as well, I want you to go there and to being asking to meet with Wyman. Beg, do what you have to but remind him of the promise.” Willam says, the plan coming together, Galbert nods, Willam then turns to Maege. “You shall come with me Maege, we shall follow one of Howland’s men round the Moat and then ride for Barrowton. From there men shall be raised, some will come with me to fight the Ironborn at Moat Cailin, and others shall go with my son Roddy to the wall.”

“Why do you wish to make it easier for Bolton to come into the north my lord?” Galbert asks.

“Because doing so makes it seem as if we are doing our part to help him. He will need allies and friends when he comes north, and as much as I hate to do it, I am his goodbrother and so shall be expected to play along. It is a ruse, but it must look honest. That is why I will go with some men towards Moat Cailin, aid him in getting back into the north and we have his trust. Roddy meanwhile will head north along with you Maege, head along the Kingsroad and see if you can find any remenants of Cerwyn and Tallhart men and perhaps we can learn the truth of what happened at Winterfell, rally the mountain clans, send word to Theo, tell him to bring the hunt. And then get to the Wall and show Jon Snow the will.”

“And what you have of me Willam?” Howland asks.

Willam looks at his old friend and says simply. “Keep Bolton and his men occupied, make it hard for them to cross. But allow Bolton to pass through freely. Do enough to cause trouble, but not enough to come close to killing them. We want them alive for when they come home.”

“Manderly will be hard to convince. His maester is a Lannister by birth if I remember correctly, and besides if he is not seeing Robett which I do not think he is, what reason would he have for seeing me?” Galbert asks.

“Two are better than one. Even Wyman is not such a coward as to refuse to see a fellow northmen. Discuss terms, discuss anything you want when the man holds court, but just make sure you get a chance to speak to him in private, for that is when Wyman’s true brilliance will show through. You both must speak to him to figure out what happened here in the north whilst we were gone.” Willam states firmly.

Galbert nods and Maege speaks. “How do we even know that Jon Snow will want to become King? He swore himself to the watch, that is a serious vow for a Northman to take, and we do not look kindly upon deserters.”

Willam thinks back to the lad he once knew, and he does not hesitate in response. “The lad will do what he believes is right for his family. Seeing as it was his brother’s last wish that he take up the mantle of King, I believe he will do it. The Starks have always been about family, and the north. I do not see why Jon Stark will be any different. Besides, this is no deserter, this is our king we are speaking of.”

Silence greets this statement, and then Galbert asks. “When do we begin putting these plans into action?”

Willam thinks for a moment and then looks at Howland before responding. “Two days’ time. We must move and quickly.”


	2. Watcher On The Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon Snow considers his options after receiving some troubling news.

****

**12 th Month of 299 A.C. Castle Black**

**Jon Snow**

His leg pained something fierce from where Ygritte’s arrow had hit it. He had felt so torn when he had fled from them during that night in the village, part of him had wanted to stay, to stay with Ygritte the one girl he had loved and been loved by, but another part of him knew that staying with her would serve no purpose would do no one any good. At the end of the day he had fulfilled his promise to the Halfhand he had found out what it was that the Wildlings were doing and he had told Donal Noye and Maester Aemon what that plan was. The Halfhand was dead though, and Jon had broken his vows when he had coupled with Ygritte, it was something that left him both torn and somewhat indifferent, he was a man he had needs, but at the same time he was worried that he had dishonoured her as well as himself, and he knew not what he would do if she was with child. There was one thing that Jon had learnt from his time amongst the wildlings, the white walkers were most definitely a threat he had seen evidence of the sort of destruction they could cause, and had heard tales of the fist from Grenn and Pyp. But by the gods did his leg hurt.

Things had looked grim when he had returned from the wall, and though he could have sworn he had seen Bran’s direwolf in that village, he knew not how considering Maester Aemon told him that Bran and Rickon were dead, killed by Theon Greyjoy. Greyjoy, Jon thought angrily, he had never liked the man, and he was ambitious and snide and cruel. There was something not right with his eyes and his actions, he was a corrosive influence on them all and yet Robb had loved him like a brother and so Jon had put up with him, and so for the man to just go and betray Robb like that was something that Jon just could not understand. Winterfell was a ruin now as well, and that thought hurt almost as much as knowing his brothers were dead, his home for so long, they were dead and now, gods it hurt. But that was not the end of the pain, for Maester Aemon had told him that Robb was dead as well, killed at a wedding at the Twins, murdered at a wedding, by the gods, what had happened, last he had heard Robb had been winning the war! The grief had hit Jon hard when he had had time to think, his brothers were dead, his father was dead, and his sisters were either missing or held prisoner, gods their family had fallen apart. And then there was Catelyn Stark, his brother’s mother. She had been good to him despite the fact that his father had dishonoured her by getting Jon’s mother with child. She had raised him as one of her own, she had done everything she could to make sure he was looked after and cared for, and it was as if he was one of her own. He had loved her and she had liked or cared for him, and now she was dead as well. His family was all gone and it hurt.

As if sensing the welling emotions in him, Maester Aemon, the aged maester of Castle Black speaks in his soft voice. “It does no good to dwell overly much on that which has happened Jon. What is done is done, and now there is nothing to do but move on.”

Jon feels anger begin to boil inside of him. “That is easy for you to say Maester, all of your family are dead. My family was alive and now they are not. I should have been there with them, I should have fought beside my brother, and perhaps things would have been different if I had been there.”

The maester chuckles, and Jon feels his anger grow. “And what could have changed by your presence. Your brother was a king, kings are like to do as they want. A crown changes a man Jon, it makes him do things he would not do without it on his head. There is no reason to debate what might have happened had you been there, for it is in the past. It is not easy I know, to hear these things, but you must let it go.”

“Let it go?” Jon asks incredulously. “You want me to just let it go?! My family is dead or missing. My home is in ruins and now you ask me to just let it go? How can I do that?”

Again the maester says nothing for a while and then. “You must let it go to accept that it has happened. Grieve yes, but do not let thoughts of what could have been affect you. You must not live in the past Jon, for doing that means you are lost to the present, and there is nothing worse than that.”

“What if I don’t care about the present?” Jon shouts. “They were my family, I can’t just forget them. Do you forget your brothers and sisters and your father and mother?”

“I do not forget them, no do I ask you to forget them Jon. I merely ask that you remember that there are things happening here and now that must be given your attention. For otherwise what is left of your brother’s kingdom will crumble to ruin. The wildlings must not be allowed to cross the wall, for if they do then a darker foe will come.” the maester responds calmly.

“Gods damn the wildlings and the white walkers. My family is dead because I was not there! I should have been there. I could have changed things I know I could have!” Jon shouts.

Maester Aemon’s face holds an expression akin to amusement. “And pray tell how you could have changed what happened Jon? You are no battle hardened warrior, you are no master tactician or politician. How could you have changed the outcome of the war?”

“Robb was my brother! He would have listened to me!” Jon all but screams, his head pounding his heart thumping. “I should go down and kill those Freys and the Boltons who betrayed their king. That would teach them something. Anything, doing anything is better than this.”

Through all this the maester says nothing and does not shout back. When he does respond his voice is calm and reasoned. “You grieve for your brothers and sisters and family. I understand that better than most Jon. But thinking on how you could have changed things had you been there will not change the fact that they are dead, nor will charging down there on your own. You will only get yourself killed needlessly, and I am sure none of your family would thank you for that. Grieve for them yes, but do not get so stuck in thinking on the past that you forget the present. You are in the present Jon, and I know your family would want you to remain in the present.”

“How? How do I do that, when all I can think of is them?” Jon asks pleadingly.

“You start by trying to accept they are dead and gone. It will be hard, very hard, but you must start. Only then can you truly move on. It hurts now I know it does, but in time the hurt will lessen, you must keep yourself busy with things so that you do not constantly go back to thinking on those matters that are now out of your control.” Maester Aemon replies.

“And if I can’t?” Jon asks.

The old maester sighs then and for the first time he sounds truly tired. “Then I do not know how to help you Jon. If you want to not feel as though there is a hole in your heart for the rest of your life, you must try.”

“How did you deal with it maester? When your family died.” Jon asks desperately searching for some form of reassurance.

Maester Aemon sighs once more and then responds. “It took me a long time to get over the fact that they were gone Jon, I will not lie to you. But I had time to grieve and get it out of my system, something that right now you do not have. I took my time and spent that time doing other things to get over it.”

“And did that help?” Jon queries.

“Yes, very much so. I found that having something to do kept away the wallowing despair and the urge to do something rash. That I was an old man as well might have helped.” Maester Aemon laughs and Jon laughs with him.

“What do you suggest I do then maester?” he questions.

“You have an important task ahead of you, we all do. The wildlings and potentially more are coming towards our gates, we must act and fast. Put yourself into protecting the wall and perhaps things will get easier, I know not Jon. The choice is yours as it always has been.” Maester Aemon responds.

Jon nods and then says. “Thank you maester.” He bows once and then walks out of Aemon’s room. As he walks down the stairs he sees Grenn and Pyp and he calls out to them. “What word is there of the wildlings?”

It is Grenn who responds. “A huge horde of them have been sighted some ten miles from here. The giants are with them, bloody giants Jon. I did not know whether to believe you or not. But there are gods damned giants with them!”

Jon nods and once he touches solid ground he asks. “What has old Donal done then to ensure the defences from the giants?”

“Well we’re all on the watch now, soon enough you will be as well. Rotating it in shifts on the top of the wall. And there are more obstructions being placed in the gateways. Donal says that that will hopefully slow the giants down. But there is more as well, it seems that there is something more coming with the wildlings. Some rabble of half men.” Grenn says.

“Half men? Oh you mean the Weeper’s lot. Aye they are damned dangerous. Has there been any sighting of the wildlings coming from the south?” Jon asks.

At this it is Pyp who speaks. “No sighting as of yet, but there was this one lad who came in from Molestown or Queenscrown I don’t remember, claiming he saw some bugger off sized wolf coming towards him, with red eyes and white fur.”

“Ghost? He saw Ghost?” Jon asks surprised.

“Aye, he nearly shat himself apparently. It is quite the tale Jon. But yes, there has been no sighting of the wildlings yet. Though Bowen Marsh and company have supposedly fought a band of wildlings near the Bridge of Skulls.”

“A feint that is what that was. An attempt to draw away our main force. They are trying to distract us. The main threat is coming from beyond the wall.” Jon says certain that what he is saying is right.

“Aye but enough of that. How are you doing? Did speaking to Aemon calm you down?” Grenn asks.

Jon considers the question for a moment, the anger and desire for vengeance is still there, but he is not as determined to ride off into the night as he was before he spoke to the maester. He looks at his friends and says. “I suppose so yes. But I still want a chance to kill Bolton when I see him if I ever do.”

Before Grenn or Pyp can respond the sound of a horn being blown once, and then twice echoes throughout the yard. The wildlings are here, and so too is the battle, gods above be merciful, Jon thinks.

 


	3. Battle Axe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbrey Dustin cleverness and motherhood.

**12 th Month of 299 A.C. Barrowton**

**Lady Barbrey Dustin**

As was often the case when her husband Willam and two sons Durin and Roddy had ridden off for war she had been left behind with her daughters Bethany and Robyn to rule Barrowton in her husband’s stead. It was a job she was familiar with having done so during the Greyjoy Rebellion, it was one she knew she excelled in but not one she felt comfortable doing. She missed her husband and their sons something fierce during the war, something that when she and Willam had been newlyweds would have surprised her. So caught up had she been in her feelings for that oaf Brandon that she would never have tried to give Willam a chance. Of course then Brandon had died, and Willam had been there for her to share in her grief, for of course Brandon was like a brother to him, more so than any of his own brothers, and they had been friends as well. Their children Durin and Bethany had been the first step towards the thawing of her heart towards her husband and their shared grief had only brought them closer. Of course her husband had had to ride off to war soon after that and so when he had come back scarred and confused she had done her best to comfort him and he her, and slowly but surely something had developed. For that she was ever grateful, just as she was grateful for the four children who had been borne to them. Durin their eldest and the heir to Barrowton was a strong and strapping lad, incredibly good looking and he knew it, he had a bastard daughter somewhere in the Rills Barbrey knew, but he took care of her from time to time. Bethany, their eldest daughter and the one she had hoped to wed to Robb Stark before the war was a sweet girl with a smart mind, she would go far in the world. Their second son Roddy, named for Roddy the Ruin was a warrior through and through, Barbrey swore to the gods he had been born with a sword in his hands. And then there was Robyn shy innocent Robyn.

It had been Bethany who had aided her in the running of Barrowton with her father gone. Her daughter had quite a sharp mind and was good with numbers as well as with dealing with various minor lords who sometimes came to the Axe’s Head to voice their complaints and their issues with each other. Sometimes smallfolk would come in and voice their own problems or grievances, and it would become too much of a hassle for Barbrey to deal with and so Bethany would take over and ensure that they were all soothed and dealt with. Her daughter had done herself proud she would make an excellent Lady and perhaps a queen if what her husband and son said was true. The orders to build a small portion of ships had come from Winterfell before the Ironborn had come and caused trouble, and so Barbrey had also overseen that and ensured that it was done to perfection, and so they now had some twenty galleys docked in port at Barrowton and they would hopefully see some use soon.

The news of the Red Wedding had come across the north on raven wings, Tywin Lannister demanding that they all bend the knee and recognise Roose Bolton as the new Warden of the North and his son as the new Lord of Winterfell. Bitter pills to swallow, the Boltons had finally achieved that which they had always coveted. And yet it seemed her husband the fiery Willam Dustin had a plan. “The will clearly states that Jon Snow is the new king in the north. The Young Wolf died without an heir, and I do not think his wife will be producing children anytime soon.”

“How will you make the lad get out of the watch though my love?” Barbrey asks. “We all know he is like Eddard Stark in miniature, too much honour and not enough sense. He will refuse you.”

Her husband though was nothing if not stubborn. “He will do what is good for the north. There is no way that he can abandon his family, not in good conscious. You say he is Ned’s son, well Ned would never leave the north to the Boltons. It is time this boy realised that there is more to being a Stark than honour. The north needs a Stark, and he is that man. It will be done.”

“And why must Roddy go north then? It is a treacherous journey my love. There are Ironborn and Bolton men roaming around. Why do you not go as well?” Barbrey asks.

Her husband gets that look in his eye that shows he is torn but ultimately has reached a decision. “I must go and play fiddle to Roose Bolton. I must make it appear as if we are on his side. We are kin through his marriage to Bethany my love. And so it would look askance if we did not show some support. Roddy can go north and convince Snow of the trueness of what we are saying. The will must get away from Barrowton. And he will not be alone either, my brother Edric and Lady Maege will be going with him.”

Her son speaks then. “Please mother I am a man grown, I can look after myself. And I know how to fight, any Ironborn or Bolton scum I see I will kill.”

“You will do no such thing.” Her husband says sharply. “The Boltons must think we are on their side. Ramsay Snow will be coming down soon enough, and we must make it look as though we are all family. Of course that is not the case, but until Jon Stark is off the wall we must act as such.”

“Why would they come to Barrowton?” Barbrey asks anger creeping into her voice at the thought of the Boltons here in her home.

Her husband takes her hand and squeezes. “Because Roose Bolton wants his bastard son to marry Arya Stark here. All the lords of the north are being told to come to Barrowton to witness the marriage and to pledge him fealty. To refuse him would be to cast suspicion and that is something I cannot allow.”

Barbrey feels the anger grow inside of her, the thought of that man in her home. “Why? Why now, why here? That man killed Domeric Willam! He murdered my nephew and he has our son! Why would you allow him to hold the marriage here?”

Her husband looks sad at that and she squeezes back. “Because I have no choice. Bolton made it clear, either the wedding happens here or Durin ends up as a head on a spike. I do not want my son to die, and as much as I dislike Bolton and his son, I love our son more. Regardless, if either of them try anything I will make sure they never leave.”

Barbrey sighs and then asks. “Do you think it is truly Arya Stark he has with him? I had heard she had disappeared from King’s Landing when Lord Eddard was arrested but she was never found.”

Her husband sighs. “I know not my love truly I do not. I do not think it is, for there would be more fanfare were it truly a daughter of Eddard Stark they had. But no, there is no fanfare and no parading of the girl. It must be someone else, some ruse or the other. Whatever happens we must get Jon Snow from the wall before Bolton has a chance to get his claws into the north.”

“Well I already have 500 men ready and waiting for the call to march my love. I suppose you can use those Roddy.” Barbrey says looking at her second son.

Her son nods and then her husband speaks. “Aye, we shall need another 1,000 men to come with me to Moat Cailin. I have said I will meet Ramsay Snow on the Kingsroad, and from there we shall attack the Moat. “

Barbrey nods. “That makes sense my love. Snow will have no more than 600 men with him, therefore giving you the superior martial might. Besides he is scared of you, you can use that to control how the battle goes.”

Her husband looks at her somewhat surprised and then nods. Her son asks. “Mother, do you know what happened at Winterfell? We were told Theon Greyjoy killed Bran and Rickon Stark, but I knew Theon somewhat and I do not believe him capable of doing such an act.”

Barbrey looks at her son then and responds. “Greyjoy was never of the north son. He always tried to be a northmen, but he failed to do so. If push came to shove I do not see why he would not have done it, it sent a very powerful message but also an incredibly foolish decision with him being so far from the sea. You cannot of course forget Bolton’s bastard was supposedly slain by Rodrik Cassel at Hornwood, and yet here he is. There is more to this story than meets the eye I tell you that.”

“You think Bolton’s bastard had something to do with the sack of Winterfell?” Roddy asks.

“I know he did. Theon Greyjoy had only twenty men with him, Winterfell does not get burned or sacked with just twenty men. No there was someone else helping him, and given the fact his family had all but abandoned him, it must have been Bolton it had to have been Bolton. There were men at the Dreadfort when the man was supposed to be dead, I would not be surprised if they were involved at all. This all reeks of Bolton treachery.” She responds.

“That is true, Roose did tell the king that supposedly Ironborn sacked Winterfell. But I did not think it plausible. The man clearly has been plotting something right from the start.” Her husband says.

She nods. “You say Hornwood died fighting under Bolton at the Green Fork and that Harrion Karstark was captured?” her husband nods and she goes on. “Well there you go then, he was working to destabilize his closest competition and put himself in prime place for rewards should King Robb have been successful. He was not and so now these moves have come to aid Bolton in a different form.”

“Aye let us just hope that the Manderlys do not turn coat because of the hostage the throne has.” Willam responds.

Barbrey snorts. “Manderly will no sooner bend the knee to Roose Bolton than he would Stannis Baratheon. The Manderlys are noted loyalists my love and though Wyman might appear too fat and weak because of it, there is a sharp mind lurking there. He showed it at the harvest feast suggesting the building of a fleet. He showed it again during the troubles with the Bastard of Bolton. He is working on an angle, but what that angle is I am not sure.”

“Well I have sent Galbart to go and speak with him. Robett should already be in White Harbour but we need him firmly committed to the plan before we engage with Bolton. He will need assurances and Galbart can phrase them better than I can.” Her husband says.

Barbrey nods. “A smart move my love, but we shall need to tread carefully. Wyman’s maester is a Lannister by birth something that has become precarious as time has gone on. During the harvest feast, Wyman worried his maester was spying on him and writing to King’s Landing. The more presence there is of men who are known to be your friends the more eyebrows will get raised. Wyman might need to act a part.”

“You truly think his maester would betray him mother?” Roddy asks.

Barbrey looks at her son then and says. “Our maester was a Bolton once. You cannot trust these grey rats Roddy. They are not as pure as they seem.”


	4. Bullet Blues

**12 th Month of 299 A.C. Somewhere**

**Durin Dustin- The Dagger**

The war had been going so well for them, so very, very well. They had beaten the Kingslayer and his army and then they were plundering their way through the Westerlands, the Young Wolf was the King that the north had needed and had wanted and they had gotten to the Crag. If there was a place Durin had to say they lost the war it was the Crag. The taking of the keep had been too easy, it was almost as if the Westerlings were deliberately trying to avoid putting up any kind of resistance, and when the keep eventually fell there was barely any deaths amongst the Westerlings or their men so few were they. Sybell Westerling appeared to contrite and she willingly threw her daughter Jeyne to attend the King, something had appeared so wrong and off about that situation that Durin had not felt right about it, he had been too frustrated being cooped up in the Crag and worrying about his father and brother and so he had gone for a ride.  That had been a mistake, for when he returned he was greeted with news of Theon Greyjoy’s treachery and the king’s own mistake. Jeyne Westerling had been named Queen of the North through her marriage to the King and the Freys had gone. And that, that was to Durin when the war had been lost.

Yes the King had erred in marrying Jeyne Westerling and the Freys were understandably angry and disappointed, but what had come next was something not even Durin could have anticipated. Lady Catelyn had released the Kingslayer in her grief, and Lord Karstark had killed those two boys in retaliation and then the man had lost his head, it was all a massive fuck up, something that really had begun when the king had married Jeyne Westerling. Whilst Durin thought the king had done everything well during the battles, this was one area his honour had come back to hurt him. The Westerlings brought nothing to the table, nothing to make up for the lack of Freys and yet the king insisted on treating them fairly. Gods he despised the king for that. And yet an olive branch had been extended in terms of the marriage between Edmure Tully and Roslin Frey and they had all been relieved. They were all fools for that. The Red Wedding was an extreme reaction to an insult, and they were all suffering.  Durin was haunted by that night, killing so many men and seeing his friends slaughtered before his own eyes including the king, gods that had hurt and stung. He woke up sometimes screaming and thrashing.

Being a prisoner in the twins was enough torture for him, the Freys were triumphant in their crime. Gloating and mocking Durin and his fellow northmen. There was so much Durin wanted to do, he wanted to kill them all and crush their heads in. he knew he could do it, he was taller, stronger and bigger than all of them combined, but they kept him chained and tethered, bringing him out to watch as they raped and tormented Lady Catelyn, gods how he wanted to remove their filthy heads and hands for doing that to his king’s mother. He would make them pay, gods he would make them pay. The torture had been more in the mind, a sword was placed in front of him and so often he was baited into trying to get it but of course his chains and shackles would prevent him from reaching the sword and cutting himself free. Gods it had hurt, and then had come the day when he had been brought up before the old weasel and his cunt of an uncle and told he would be brought in chains to the north. Bolton needed leverage and so they had set out and everyday Durin plotted his revenge.

His uncle insisted on speaking with him once or twice a week, though it was hard to gauge time as they marched. He was hungry and angry and gods’ every time he saw the man’s cold eyes he remembers Robb being brought low by the man himself. His fists clench and his breathing gets heavier. “Come now nephew, don’t do that. I would hate to have to give you to my son when we see him. He does enjoy tormenting people you know. A rather unfortunate habit he picked up as a child. Now sit still and be patient and listen to what I have to say otherwise you will suffer.”

“Why should I listen to you Kingslayer? Oath breaker! You betrayed your king and killed him. The north will never follow you.” Durin snarls.

His uncle tuts. “I am not a Kingslayer nephew. Robb Stark was not the king, Joffrey Baratheon is our king. And the north was not following Robb Stark, they were following the memory of his father. Remember this Durin, the boy had abandoned all reason and was walking with his tail between his legs. I have done what needed to be done to preserve the north.”

“Preserve the north Pah!” Durin spits. “You did what you did to get the north. Something your whole gods damned family has attempted to do from time immemorial. You could not do it by honest means, so you betrayed the king. The king you swore an oath to! Domeric should have lived.”

His uncle never usually reacts to anything, but here his face grows dark his voice is still soft though. “Domeric is dead, and Robb Stark is dead. It would be easier for you and for your family if you remembered that. There is nothing more for you to fight for apart from freeing the north.”

“Pah! My family will never support you. My mother and father have not forgotten what happened to Domeric. They will never forget or forgive if something happens to me. You are doomed Bolton.” Durin snarls.

His uncle’s voice still remains soft, but the threat is clear in his tone. “Your family will do as I say otherwise you will be joining the Young Wolf in death. There are other members of your family who could be more useful to me than you Durin. You remain alive simply because Bethany was fond of you. Remember that boy. Now tell me Durin how would you attack Moat Cailin?”

Surprised at the sudden change in topic Durin is thrown momentarily of balance and then snarls. “I would seek aid from the cranongmen and attack from the north. But they will never aid you Kingslayer. You will be trapped in the south with these weasels whilst your army starves and deserts. Your bastard does not have the brains to take the Moat without doing something stupid.”

The smile that greets his uncle’s face then is an image that Durin is convinced would send even the bravest men running for their lives. It is a hideous image, but Durin is rooted to the spot because of the chains. “Oh but Ramsay is not the only one attacking the moat. Why I have received word that your own father is helping my son to take the Moat. And whilst we might both think Ramsay an idiot, your father most assuredly is not. You see, with your father supporting me like this, others will come.”

Durin is shocked by this news, why, why would his father and mother support this man? And then it hits him. “What did you threaten them with if they did not help you uncle?”

Roose Bolton laughs. “Nothing I did not threaten them with anything. Both your father and mother are smart people, they know it makes more sense to support me than to oppose me. Why they have even agreed to host the wedding of my son to Arya Stark.”

The anger hits him hard again. That girl is not Arya Stark, he knows that, he knows Arya Underfoot, and that girl is not her, who she is he knows not. “You would subject her to your bastard? I thought you more human than that uncle. Surely you know what your bastard is?”

His uncle smiles that hideous smile once more. “Oh but you see Ramsay is what he is, and that is something I cannot change. Regardless he will not have power, he is Lord of Winterfell but I hold the north. He will do as I say, and he will be complaint with it. The moment a child is born of their union, then perhaps I might consider dealing with the bastard. For now though he has his purposes.”

Durin feels horrified, his uncle does not even have an ounce of feeling in him. “You, you are not human. How is it Domeric sprung from your loins?”

His uncle’s eyes go cold at the mention of Domeric, and Durin gets ready for a blow that never comes. Instead his uncle merely responds softly. “Domeric was a good lad, but he did not have the heart to be a true Bolton. Sending him to the Redforts was a bad idea, and one I should have objected to more strongly than I did. He is dead now though and soon enough I shall have sons from my wife. Sons whom can protect my daughter from Ramsay.”

Durin snorts then. “I do not think Romhilda needs to be protected from anyone. She is more than a match for your bastard.”

His uncle looks at him then with those pale eyes and says softly. “Indeed she is, and that is why you two shall be marrying when the time comes. To ensure your father remains loyal you two shall marry. And if not then you will die.”

Durin looks at his uncle. “The north will not stand for that, nor will my family.”

“They will do as they must to survive. You are expendable in the greater scheme of things nephew. But if you wish to survive you need only renounce your fealty to the Starks and join me and my family. And these chains will not be necessary.” Roose responds.

Durin feels his arms chafe underneath the chains and their weight, and then looks at his uncle and snarls. “I would rather slit my own throat then side with you.”

His uncle sighs. “A shame. Very well you might well get your chance.” With that the guards are called and he is dragged back to where the prisoners are kept.

He adjusts to the darkness and hears Smalljon asks. “What did he want with you?”

“The same thing he has wanted for the past two weeks. He wants me on his side.” Durin responds.

“And what did you say?” Smalljon asks.

“I told him to go fuck himself. I will not betray the Young Wolf or the Starks. Even if my family has.” Durin snarls.

Silence follows this statement and Durin begins thinking of how best to kill his uncle, he might be labelled a kinslayer but he would rather that than do nothing at all. And he thinks of his family, would his father and mother willingly have joined Bolton or is this some ploy of theirs? He had never understood the schemes sometimes. And then he thinks of his love and he feels his cock grow somewhat hard, and as he sees her hair black as night and her eyes pools he could drown in, gods he wants to see her again. It is this that makes him say. “We have to get out of here.”

“How?” Smalljon asks.

“I am not called the dagger for no reason Jon. We kill the guards in the night and we make a break for it. I know a way to get to Barrowton avoiding the Moat.” Durin says.

“And when do we do this?” Smalljon asks.

“Soon, I will not spend another day in this godsdamned camp.” Durin responds. “We will get justice and make the north learn the truth of Bolton’s treachery.”

 


	5. Sweet Dreams

****

**12 th Month of 299 A.C.  Cerwyn**

**Roderick Dustin**

The war had been something brutal, it had been frantic and chaotic. Roddy remembered all the stories he had heard growing up of Robert’s Rebellion and the Greyjoy Rebellion, and had grown up dreaming alongside his brother Durin that they would one day achieve feats in a war that would rival their father’s. Of course their father had always said they would be better off hoping there was no war, and to their childish brains they could not understand that. Even when they had marched off to fight in the south both Roddy and his brother had dreamed of winning glory for themselves and their house. It was only after the Whispering Wood that they saw the true nature of war, the bloodshed and the dying men crying out for gods alone knew what. It had been something that Roddy had tried to drown out, something that had gotten worse as the war had progressed.

The Young Wolf was dead, Robb who had been like a brother to him was gone betrayed at his own uncle’s wedding. The mere thought of it all caused Roddy to clench his fists in rage and swear a bloody vengeance. His parents were playing a role he knew in siding with Bolton but still it was hard for him to accept it, the thought of that cunt Ramsay sitting where Robb should’ve sat. That was something that was too hard for him to bear. He wanted to rage and scream, but he knew his part. To get Jon Snow from the wall and make him see he was the only hope the north had. The king in the north would rise again from the ashes and the north would be free. That was why he was marching through the damn cold with five hundred of his father’s men to Castle Black. They had stopped at Cerwyn and now Roderick was speaking with its lord, his friend Cley, learning of what had happened in the north since the war had begun.

“What happened Cley? When we were in the Westerlands, we heard all kinds of things. Even when we were in the Riverlands all sorts of stories came down to us. Did Bolton’s bastard truly force Lady Hornwood the marry him and then leave her to starve?” Roddy asks.

His friend nods a gaunt look in his eye. “Aye he did Roddy. Something about protecting the lands in some agreement or the other. It was complete bollocks of course. Ramsay Snow was doing it out of some sort of power grab, either out of his father’s direction or to threaten Romhilda. There was nothing subtle about it.”

“And what did Winterfell do about this? Surely Ser Rodrick did not stand for it?” he asks.

“He didn’t Roddy. He marched out with men to deal with Ramsay Snow and was thought to have killed him at Hornwood Forest. But it seems that was just something to throw Ser Rodrick off the scent. Ramsay’s play thing Reek that was whom Ser Rodrick killed, dragging the real Ramsay off to Winterfell in chains.” Cley says a faraway look in his eye.

“And the bastard was more than likely looking to do something in Winterfell once he was inside it. But what happened to Romhilda? I would have thought she would have done something to find her brother or warn Ser Rodrick about him.” Roddy asks.

“I am not sure how much she knew of what was going on Roddy. She was too busy dealing with her uncle or cousin or something I am not sure. But when she did finally come round to noticing there was a world outside the Dreadfort, Ramsay was already supposedly dead and everything seemed to be fine.” Cley responds.

Roddy nods. “I am surprised she did not kill Ramsay Snow to be perfectly honest. She is a fighter someone who knows how to defend herself, and from what we know of Bolton’s Bastard he is a bit of a wild card. Something surely must have happened there.”

His friend nods. “I think that is why Bolton’s Bastard went to push for Hornwood. He was getting tired of being denied control at the Dreadfort and so went to go for the easier lands. And of course that got noticed.”

Roddy nods. “It does seem as though Snow was doing everything he did so that he could get noticed. Almost as if he wanted to be brought into Winterfell. Something was going on there, but I don’t know what it was. You were there when Ser Rodrik went to retake the castle weren’t you Cley? What happened?”

At this his friend’s eyes grow dark and a haunted expression crosses his face. “Theon Greyjoy held Beth Cassel hostage a knife to her throat, and taunted old Ser Rodrik that if the tried to take Winterfell Beth would die.”

“Did he mean it though? As in truly? Yes he might have killed Bran and Rickon, but surely that was Bolton’s whispering?” Roddy asks.

“I do not know if he would have done it Roddy, before we could find out help came from the Dreadfort, six hundred men armed to the teeth. We all thought they were there to help us, they were not. The bastard was there controlling things he cut of Ser Rodrik’s arm and then proceeded to have his men kill us.” Cley responds.

“How? How did Romhilda allow this to happen? Surely she had learnt not to trust her bastard brother by now?” Roddy asks incredulously.

Cley shrugs. “I suppose he must have made a very good show of saying he was going to aid Winterfell. It was quite convincing. I only managed to get away with some of my men because for some reason one of Bolton’s men allowed us to get away. Winterfell was sacked on his orders Roddy, not the Ironborn. Bolton’s bastard sacked Winterfell and had it completely torn down.”

Horrified Roddy looks at his friend and in a soft voice asks. “What happened to Greyjoy?”

Cley shrugs. “I know not truth be told. He is either dead or he is suffering a fate worse than death. As to where Bolton’s bastard is I do not know. He could be in the Dreadfort or he could be in Hornwood. Regardless he is somewhere and so long as he is alive we are all in danger.”

Roddy tries to process all of this, so Bolton’s bastard sacked Winterfell, he betrayed Greyjoy it seems. And now gods alone knows what he is doing whilst they all wait for Moat Cailin to fall. And Romhilda, gods, he worries for her, his cousin and the girl he loves. Gods what is going on, he does not know what to think or even whom to trust. It is all a mess, all of it, a fucking mess and now they have to clean it all up.

As if trying to change the course of the conversation Cley asks. “So what have you been doing since you got back into the north Roddy? Word takes a long time to get here now without a Stark in Winterfell. And I am not so sure what to believe and what not to believe. Word is that your family is supporting Roose Bolton.”

Roddy nods. “Aye they are. Not willingly mind. After all we all know that Roose Bolton and his family are treacherous snakes. But they have Durin, and so we must fight for them and alongside them.”

“Well not all of their family are snakes now are they Roddy?” Cley says jokingly. “Romhilda seems to be quite to your liking doesn’t she?”

Roddy hits his friend’s arm playfully. “Oh shut it you. Romhilda is just a friend nothing more. Especially now it can’t be anything more. But yes, my family are siding with Roose Bolton for now at least. But that is why I am here Cley. I need you and your men to come north with me to Castle Black.”

“Castle Black? Why on earth are we going to castle black?” his friend asks.

“Because the heir to the north is there. Before he died, King Robb left a will stating that should he die without male issue, his brother Jon Snow, now Jon Stark was to succeed him. He was legitimised and men were being organised to go north to the wall in exchange for him. I am sure you know that there are wildlings coming towards the wall again, with your men and my men and the men of the mountain clans we should be able to throw them back. Jon would have to accept the legitimisation then, there is no way he could accept Bolton sitting in Winterfell, after what we have just done for him.” Roddy says confidently.

There is a moment’s silence after that and then Cley starts laughing. “Are you sure we are talking of the same person here Roddy? You remember Jon Snow right? He was like Lord Eddard writ miniature, he would never do anything that would dishonour himself, or even the Night’s Watch. He swore the vows, and I am sure he will mean to keep to them. Regardless, what is to stop him from being labelled a deserter?”

Roddy holds up the will and says. “This. King Robb pardoned his brother before formally legitimising him. The brothers of the Night’s Watch can say what they want but they have always listened to the Starks of Winterfell, and this time it will be no different. As for Jon, honour is nothing compared to family, and he was raised as we all were to value family above all else. He would not live with himself if he did not do something to prevent Bolton from corrupting the north.”

His friend still looks sceptical. “Alright then, so let us say that we go to the wall. What is there to stop the commanders of the Watch from protesting Jon leaving the wall? It has never been done before as far as I can tell and would set a bad example.”

“Well then we would just have to remind them who it is who has been saving their arses every time the wildlings have attacked the wall and gotten beyond. Every single time it has been northern lords and northmen who have died fighting to protect the wall and the watch. They owe us a massive debt, they will give us Jon or we will merely take him. There is nothing they can do.” Roddy retorts.

His friend roars with laughter then. “Oh that is good, very good Roddy. Spoken like a true Dustin. So yes, I suppose I might as well come with you. Better than waiting for Ramsay Snow to come prowling around waiting for something or the other. My sister will hold the fort whilst I am gone.”

“Oh? And what has the lovely Lady Jonella been doing since you returned? Has there been any male attention?” Roddy teases.

His friend curses somewhat. “No you swine, there has not been. Though in all honesty I might have to start looking for husbands for her. Gods that will be a nightmare.”

Roddy roars with laughter and they pass the remaining few hours till dinner japing about things from their past, trying their hardest not to worry overtly about the events to come in the future. They drink and jest and reminisce, they commiserate over those who are not with them and they raise their glasses to them. By the end of it all, they are both fairly drunk, but Roddy manages to make it back to his room, his head hits the pillow and he dreams of Romhilda and of their future together, or what he hoped would happen before this damnable war.

The next morning slightly hungover but with the biting cold waking them up somewhat, Roddy and Cley mount up and say their respective things to their men and then they are off, marching from Castle Cerwyn around the ruins of Winterfell, a sight that causes more anger to swell in Roddy and through the Wolfswood. Their journey has now properly begun, soon enough they will be at the wall ready and waiting for the fight to begin.

 


	6. Imp

**1 st Month of 300 A.C Black Cells**

**Tyrion Lannister**

So it had come to this, his whole life had come to this. Stuck in the black cells of King’s Landing for a crime he had not committed. Then again he did not know why he was so surprised, his family had always been out to get him from the moment he had been born and the moment his mother had died. It had always been one thing after another, his father had tried to kill him during the battle of the Green Fork, his sister had tried to kill him during the battle of Blackwater Bay, and now this. Gods why couldn’t they just kill him already, why couldn’t they just get it over and done with? He had no patience anymore, if he was going to die he wanted to die properly like a lion not a fucking dwarf. But then again the gods had always laughed at that particular dream of his. Why even his own wife had gone and left him, there had been no sign of Sansa anywhere within the city for a week now, no doubt she had taken the first opportunity and fled the city. But who would help her? Her family were all gone and dead, the north a ruin, there was nothing more for her here or anywhere. Apart from the bastard on the wall.

The King’s wedding had been a thing of extravagance. Tyrion truly could not understand why there was so much extravagance being thrown around. The war was not over yet, Stannis Baratheon was still around, still a threat, and the north and the riverlands were not done just yet. And yet his sister insisted on having all kinds of festivities for the boy’s wedding. Seventy seven courses and gods alone knows what more. It had been a bore, the Tyrell girl had courted nearly everyone making them laugh and dance with joy, she was good, but she paled in comparison to his own wife, as far as Tyrion was concerned, Sansa would make a far better queen than the Tyrell girl would ever make, for she was genuine whereas the Tyrell girl was all false. And on it had gone, the damned shallowness until the dwarves and the pie. The king had been drunk, as drunk as any young lad could be, and he had said things and Tyrion had said things and then the boy was choking to his death.

“Gods its smells worse than my cell in Riverrun here.” His brother’s voice came from near the entrance to his cell.

Tyrion looked up and his chains clinked slightly. “Have you come to kill me then brother?”

His brother had brought a torch with him and that was what allowed Tyrion to see the look of pure shock on his brother’s face. “Kill you? Why by the gods would I do that? You are my own flesh and blood.”

“And I supposedly killed your son Jaime. I am surprised I thought you’d want to rip my head off for doing that.” Tyrion says.

Jaime’s face contorts somewhat. “The boy was never my son. Cersei saw to that, and regardless he was a monster who got what he deserved. I have heard of what he did to the Stark girl.”

Tyrion laughs slightly. “I would not tell Cersei that. Our sweet little sister might well be content to throw you down here as well. She loved that little shit, and gods alone knows he inherited more from her than he did you.”

At this his brother grimaces and Tyrion wonders whether as so often happened when he was a boy Jaime will tell him off, instead his brother sighs. “I fear you are right brother. She did ask me to go down and kill you, you know. I refused. I am no kinslayer, and I do not believe you did it.”

“Who do you think did it then brother? If it were not I, the grotesque dwarf whom half the court seems to despise.” Tyrion snarls.

“Your wife for one. The Stark girl would have every reason to want Joffrey dead. He abused her, he did thinks that I don’t think even Aerys did to his own wife, and he was mad! he gloated over her family’s deaths, and he intend to wed her to Bolton’s bastard if I remember correctly before father had you two wed. Yes, she definitely had every reason to want him dead. And she could well have had the means to. Joffrey was poisoned using something or the other.” Jaime responds.

“Yes she had every reason to poison that little shit that does not mean she did it. Where would she get the poison from? How would she do it without anyone seeing? There are too many problems with that line of argument for it to work brother. No it had to be someone else.” Tyrion reasons.

“I understand that you want to protect her Tyrion, she is your wife. But at the same time she is not here. She fled the moment she got the chance to. If that does not convince you of her guilt then I do not know what will. She had to do it, and I do believe she might have had help. Ser Dontos Hollard the oaf was found dead at the port, a few quarrels through him. Speaking to those who were at port that night it seems that he was there with a hooded figure whom he kept referring to as ‘sweetling.’ Who could that be if not the Stark girl?” His brother argues.

This hits Tyrion hard. “She did keep going to the godswood before the wedding. I thought it was to pray. Perhaps I am not as smart as I think?”

His brother kneels down and says. “No I think you just saw a girl who was hurt and in need of protection, and you wanted to be her knight. It is not your fault brother. She did what she did and now we must figure out how to clear your name.”

Tyrion snorts. “Clear my name? I do not think so. Not with Cersei so determined to see me dead. And father willing to have me out of the way so that the alliance with the Tyrells can continue. You have seen how the trial has been going, I do not stand a chance.”

“Actually, there might be a way for you to get out of this with your head intact brother.” Jaime says hesitatingly.

Tyrion looks at his brother and asks. “And what is that? What act of humiliation do I have to perform to keep my head?”

“Not you brother. Father will prevent you from being executed if you agree to accept the charges of conspiring to murder the king alongside your wife, and if you agree to go to the wall.” Jaime says simply.

Tyrion looks at his brother. “And there is nothing else that I would have to do to keep my head? I would merely have to admit to this false charge and I could go to the wall?” his brother nods. Tyrion snorts. “I do not believe it. There is something else, father would not make it that easy. He will try to have me killed on the way there, or Cersei will. Regardless I will never make it to the wall.”

“You will! Father has given his word that you will.” Jaime insists.

Tyrion looks at his older brother then and asks. “What has he gotten you to do brother? What has he made to commit to, to get this?”

“If you accept these terms then I will renounce my Kingsguard vows and become the heir to the Rock once more. That is what father wanted from me.” His brother says.

Tyrion snorts. “I see you are none too happy about that brother. But let me think on it and I shall decide on the morrow.” His brother nods and then stands and leaves.

Tyrion is left to his thoughts in the dark. All the wrongs that have been done to him by his family and the world at large, simply because of his size and the nature of his birth. He did not ask to be born, nor did he ask to be born a dwarf or kill his mother. But it happened, and he has been made to suffer for it for his whole life. Very few people have ever truly cared for him or even wanted to know him, Jaime had always been one, his aunt and uncles the others, and then there was Tysha, sweet innocent Tysha, but that had been a lie, a true lie. He thought Shae had, but she had proven him wrong just as Tysha had. Gods was he doomed to this life to wander around without knowing what it was to love.

The torment in his mind was ended when the cell door opened once more, and this time a voice of spice was heard. “You look like shit Lannister.”

As the flame brings light into the cell Tyrion squints and sees a Prince of Dorne in his cell. “Why Prince Oberyn, a pleasure to see you. Welcome to my humble abode. I am afraid there is not much in the way of comfort here. And I must wonder why you are here. I thought judges were not allowed to speak to the accused.”

Prince Oberyn snorts. “I go where I want when I want. If anyone has any issue with that, they can take it up with me later. But I have come to see what it is like here, and how the mighty Tywin Lannister treats his family. The black cells are a hard place for a normal man, but for someone like you, I imagine it must be horrid.”

Tyrion laughs slightly. “Yes, it certainly is a step down, or perhaps many steps down from the usual standard of living that I am used to my prince. But I must wonder, what are you doing here? I had thought my father would know about this.”

“What Tywin Lannister knows or does not know, does not bother me. In fact it is better if he does know, for then I might very well get what I came here for in the first place.” The prince responds.

“And what was that my prince? I thought came as your brother’s representative to King’s Landing?” Tyrion asks though he suspects that he already knows the answer.

“I have come here to get justice for my sister Elia and her children. Justice that has long been overdue to her and her children.” The prince responds.

“Justice?” Tyrion asks incredulously. “If you want justice, you have come to the wrong place. There is no justice in King’s Landing, only lies.”

“I disagree,” the prince responds. “I have come to get justice from those who have wronged me and my family. And those who have wronged us are right here. I will get my justice one way or another.”

“Then why are you speaking to me my prince?” Tyrion asks, he holds up his hands to show the shackles. “As you can see, I cannot do you much good. I cannot give you the justice you so desire, only my father can. And I do not think he knows what justice is.”

“Oh I disagree my lord. I believe you can. Very much so.” The prince responds.

“How? How can I do that?” Tyrion asks.

“Tomorrow your father will read out your sentence, and he will ask if you agree with it. Refuse to agree to it, demand the chance to prove your innocence before the gods. Ask for trial by combat and I will fight for you.” The prince responds.

Tyrion feels his heart leap a little. “Why?”

“Because it is time Tywin Lannister learnt that he is not as powerful or mighty as he thinks he is. It is time for him to be removed from power. You will get your justice my lord imp, as will I.” the prince replies before he turns and walks out of the cell.


	7. Bastards On Broken Knees

**1 st Month of 300 A.C. Outside Moat Cailin**

**Lord Willam Dustin**

It was a very dangerous game he was playing, this keeping up appearances did not truly sit well with Willam. He wanted to grab Bolton’s bastard by the neck and kill him with his own two hands, he did not doubt he could do it, but at the same time thoughts of Durin held prisoner by the man’s father stayed his hand. Willam would not risk his eldest son for the bastard, no matter how much satisfaction he would get from killing him. The plan was rather simple if one looked at it objectively, all Willam and his family had to do was play the loyal servants to Roose Bolton and his bastard, aid them in getting Moat Cailin and then in hosting the sham of a wedding, and from there that should be more than enough to distract Bolton and his bastard from what Roddy was doing up at the wall. Durin was a bit of lose end though. Willam knew his eldest son was rash, and could sometimes do things that would harm him and others, he just hoped that this time his son had more sense.

The bastard of Bolton was riding next to him, and Willam was fighting to keep his calm, gods the man was sot hateable it was almost funny. Of course the bastard had to choose that moment to speak. “I thank you for coming Lord Willam. There were times when I doubted you would come. Considering some things one has heard about your family.”

“And what things be these my lord?” Willam asks.

The bastard continued riding but Willam knew he was planning some sort of malicious retort. “Well considering how close you were to Eddard Stark and how loyally you fought for Robb Stark, one would consider it almost shocking that you would side with me and my father in doing this. Considering what happened in the south.”

Willam would have shook his head in disgust at the idiot, if there was not a risk of being seen. “Why my lord, I did as any lord would do when the Young Wolf called his banners. I called my own men and marched, that does not mean I truly thought all that much of him. Truth be told I thought he was rather green and he made so many mistakes I wondered if we had made a mistake putting a crown on his head.”

That seems to stroke the bastard’s ego for his response is filled with boastfulness. “Aye that does seem true. My father spoke of how much disdain he held for Robb Stark and his southern mother and siblings. A green boy trying to be man. He did well in battles, but even then he only had his wolf and more experienced generals to thank for that. I promise you I will not be like that as Lord of Winterfell.”

“My lord?” Willam asks though he knows what the man is actually saying.

“When I am Lord of Winterfell all the mistakes that the Young Wolf made will be thoroughly dealt with. The Ironborn will not be driven out, they will be killed. And anyone who threatens northern people will be killed as well. There will be no more southern influence. And if my wife disagrees she shall be killed.” The bastard of Bolton says.

Willam’s hands tighten somewhat on the reins even though he knows the girl is not really Ned’s daughter. “Whilst I agree with you on driving out southern influence, I do not think killing your bride would be a good idea my lord. Whilst I and my family are your father’s people now, there are still others who would take ill to the death of another Stark. Particular a daughter of their beloved Ned. Keeping her alive as a hostage to their good behaviour would make more sense.”

The bastard of Bolton laughs. “AH but then what am I to do if she displeases me? I cannot willingly allow for her to grow truculent now can I? A husband must be dominating in all aspects so his wife knows her place. The Starks are dead, the boys are all rotting in the ground, and as for the girls, one is to be my whore and the other, the other is dead.”

 _Idiot, the Starks aren’t dead._ Willam thinks derisively. Aloud he merely says. “That is true my lord. Yet there is power in a name and a symbol. Be kind to the girl and the northern lords will see that your reputation is not as dark or as foreboding as it seems. They will be more willing to follow your lead then.”

That seems to have caught the bastard’s attention. “Aye, my lead. Not my father’s. Why should he be Warden of the North? I did all the hard work, I got him the north, and all he did was kill the king. Pah!” the man spits.

Willam sensing an opening says. “Of course my lord of course. You did the work and you should get the full reward. Not only Winterfell and the girl, but the Wardenship as well as full legitimisation. Show your father that you are not a man to be crossed and he will treat you with more respect. The respect you deserve.”

The bastard laps it up. “Oh yes, very much so yes. That is what I am due, not some broken castle. I want the castle, I want everything. And I shall have it.”

“Yes, you deserve it my lord. You did the work, it is only fair that you get the rewards. Your father did nothing truly, nothing of note. He killed a green boy at a wedding, anyone can do that. But you, oh you did all the hard work. Do not let him take away from your achievements.” Willam whispers.

The bastard laughs then. “Ah yes my achievements. Well the taking of the Moat shall be another one that my father cannot take credit for.”

“And how do you plan on taking the Moat my lord?” Willam asks.

“I have one of the squids with me. Reek!” Bolton’s bastard calls, and another horse comes forward, an old man dressed in the attire of House Greyjoy comes forward then looking scared and broken. “My lord may I present Theon Greyjoy, the Prince of Winterfell.”

Willam is shocked then as he looks at the man’s face and sees the familiar cockiness that once was there. “What is he going to do?”

“Why talk to his people, and make them see reason aren’t you Theon.” The bastard says. Greyjoy nods, and Bolton’s bastard laughs, hitting the flank of Greyjoy’s horse and sending it sprinting towards the Moat.

Dustin sits on his horse in the silence as they wait for Greyjoy to complete whatever it was Bolton’s bastard had asked of him. As he sits there though, he begins considering the ways in which he can continue to sow the seeds of discontent into the bastard’s mind. The more divided the Boltons are the better it will be for them all. Mainly due to the fact that if Ramsay Snow is actively going for his father, the Roose will have no time to worry about anything other than ensuring he is not killed by his already kinslaying son. Leaving Willam and his allies free to deal with Walda Frey as they best please.

Bolton’s bastard breaks the silence and his voice is no louder than a whisper when he speaks. “Tell me my lord, how old are your daughters?”

Willam feels his gut clench at this but calmly replies. “Bethany is eight and ten and Robyn is six and ten my lord. Why do you ask?”

“It is all well and good being married to a Stark, but I fear your wife does not like me for one reason or another. Perhaps if I helped arrange a match for one of your daughters to a man of suitable standing she would be more inclined to do as I say.” Bolton’s bastard says.

Willam feels his anger grow but somehow manages to keep his voice calm. “That is very thoughtful of you my lord. I shall speak to my wife and daughters about it, and see what they say.”

The bastard nods. Though his tone gives away just what he thinks. “Aye I would be happy to do so. In fact once my own marriage is done, I would insist on it.”

Before Willam can respond, they see Greyjoy riding back to their party. “They have submitted my lord. As you said they would.” The once proud lordling says his eyes lowered deferentially.

“Good, you have done very well Theon. Now go back to and get changed.” The bastard says.

“Yes my lord.” Greyjoy replies.

Once the man has ridden past them, Bolton’s bastard looks at him and asks. “Do you wish to come with me to deal with these cunts?”

Willam pauses before responding, he has heard of how Bolton’s bastard deals with prisoners of war, he has seen it now with Greyjoy and truly he has no wish to witness it first-hand. So he shakes his head and says. “I thank you for the offer my lord, but I must refuse. I shall stay here and make sure Greyjoy does nothing suspicious.”

The bastard laughs. “Reek do anything? Pah, the fool will do nothing unless I order him to. But suit yourself my lord.” With that Bolton’s bastard and his men ride off to the Moat.

Once the man and his men have gone from sight, Willam’s goodbrother Roose Ryswell rides up next to him and asks. “What do we do now my lord? We have seen Greyjoy and we are hearing more and more about Bolton’s treachery. What do we do?”

Willam does not look at his goodbrother but says. “We do nothing. We remain true to the plan. I have only just begun to plant the seeds of doubt in the bastard’s mind. When the father comes we work on him as well. How soon can your brother get to the Hornwood?”

“Rickard should be there by the time we are back in Barrowton my lord.” Roose replies.

“And he is certain he can find and bring Romhilda without Ramsay being alerted?” Willam asks.

“Most definitely my lord. But is White Harbour truly the safest place for her to go? I would have thought taking her there would only alert Roose Bolton to the game being played?” Roose asks.

“She will not be going to White Harbour. Wyman Manderly knows what needs to be done, she shall be taken to Widow’s Watch and from there she shall remain. Unless of course I have need of her before then. After all I am sure Bolton will want his daughter present at Winterfell. The man has certain vanities after all.” Willam responds.

“Why would he not want her there? She is his daughter after all, and he holds power over Ramsay.” Roose asks.

Willam laughs. “Because, she is too much like Barbrey and not like her own mother. Roose Bolton does not like those who can challenge him, and from what my wife has been telling me she does that nearly every day. Bolton does not know how to deal with girls. He knows how to deal with Ramsay, because Ramsay is a man. But his daughter, his daughter will be his downfall.”

His goodbrother looks at him then and asks. “How so my lord?”

Willam sighs then. “Even though he does not know how to deal with her, Bolton as with every father who has a daughter, has a weakness for granting them whatever they want. Soon enough Romhilda will ask for what is rightfully hers and he will have to give it to her.”

His goodbrother catches on then and asks. “What about Walda Frey? She is with child is she not?”

This time Willam looks at his goodbrother and says. “Walda Frey will not survive the journey past the neck.”

 

 

 


	8. Jump The Gun

**1 st Month of 300 A.C.**

**Jon Snow**

The wall glimmered in the pale sunlight, but gods was it cold. So very cold, the horn had sounded twice and soon enough the wildlings had been sighted coming over the ridge. Donal Noye had begun barking commands, and soon enough Jon had found himself limping around with a sword in his hand, barking commands as he got them from Donal. The wildlings under the Magnar of Thenn were fast approaching and Jon had never felt so nervous in his life. Beside him Pyp and Grenn were shaking as well, gods knew where Sam was, Jon had not seen him since the fist, and Grenn and Pyp had not seen him since the Mutiny of Craster’s Keep wherever he was Jon prayed his friend was safe and sound.

The blur that was the wildling host was coming ever closer, and Jon’s heart was hammering in his chest, it was beating rapidly, so very rapidly and he was not completely sure he knew what was going to happen or what he was going to do when they came. Ygritte was with that group, she was somewhere there no doubt knocking an arrow into her bow. Gods the thought of Ygritte only made his heart beat faster, that was not really helping as he tried to calm his nerves. “Why don’t they come already fuck sake?” Grenn cursed, Jon have a nervous laugh and then a horn was sounded, off in the distance and the wildlings began their charge.

Waiting and holding the line is one of the most nervous moments of Jon’s life, seeing the blur that is Ygritte and her companions sprinting towards them is making his heart hammer in his chest, is making sweat pour down his face. Gods when did it become so hot? They are all standing there preparing for the onslaught, the wildlings are getting closer and closer and Jon can hear Donal Noye barking out commands for the archers, one second passes Donal roars a command the archers knock their bows, two seconds pass Donal roars for the archers to get ready and aim, three seconds pass Donal roars for them to fire. Jon and his friends watch as the arrows go whizzing past them and down to the ground below. Some of the wildlings fall but more of them stay afoot and come charging past the towers some of their own archers killing those posted in the towers.

And this is where Jon has his first taste of fighting the wildlings come charging in swinging their weapons wildly. Jon is separated from his friends in the mad push by the wildlings led by Styr, Jon though is not fighting the Magnar instead he is going head to head with one of the other Thenns. This one is a big brute of a man and has the strength to go with it. Jon just about manages to avoid having his head cut off by ducking, and the man continues on his furious swinging, some of his swings connect and Jon is left wounded with some of his armour dented. And yet there is not set pattern to the man, his swings are erratic and wild and so Jon decides to use this to his advantage, he feints to his right and the man comes with him, but at the last second he thrusts Longclaw forward and buries it into the man’s arm, pulling out and causing the man to roar. The Thenn pulls away crying out in pain and Jon moves on.

The fighting has become truly furious now, as Jon stumbles from one fight to the next he sees his fellow brothers hacking and slashing for their lives, the wildlings giving as good as they get. More and more sworn brothers are falling as well as wildlings, the chaos is something else. Gods alone know what is going to happen if a larger force comes calling. Jon is keeping one eye open for Ygritte but he cannot see her, thankfully. He manages to kill two giants of men with deft blows and quick reactions, Ghost helps him take out a third, and still the wildlings are coming pushing their way through, blood lust evident, they are sensing something akin to victory, there are too many of them and too few of Jon and his sworn brothers. Something is going to have to give and soon.

Longclaw is red from hilt to point and gods is he tired, so very tired, but still he keeps going, fighting through thick and thin, more men begin to fall to his blade and more parts of his armour are covered in dirt and blood as the battle wears on. He helps Satin one of the new recruits’ fight of a towering giant of a Thenn, and then push barrels of oil down on the still advancing party, and there is still no sign of Ygritte. A good thing to, for Jon is not sure whether or not he would be able to fight her as well as he could. Still he helps Satin on the stairwell as they force themselves down, the former whore is shaking slightly and that is causing his sword swings to go awry, Jon therefore has to use Longclaw to being swatting and slicing his way through.

The bodies are growing, there is blood on the stairwell as they continue their way down, and there are bodies on the ground as well. And still there is fighting, it seems as if the wildlings are growing bolder, there are more attacks in places they would not normally attack at least not from what Jon remembers of their plans, and his fears grow. Was there something he missed? Some plan or some strategy that he overlooked that could have better prepared them?  The fighting continues and now in the chaos Jon has lost Satin, gods what is going on, it looks like it could well be a massacre of both forces.  Jon hears a cry and sees one of Tormund’s sons cut down Pyp, his friend helpless against the onslaught. Jon cries out and goes to help his friend when an arrow lands in front of him causing him to stop in his tracks.

He looks at the arrow and then looks up at the person who fired it. Red hair and the face that made him forget his vows looks back at him. “Ygritte.” He calls out.

“Jon Snow. You traitor.” Ygritte calls back.

“Please Ygritte we don’t have to do this.” Jon pleads.

“Oh but we do Jon Snow, because you are a crow, and I should have killed you before.” Ygritte responds.

“Please Ygritte we can talk about this.” Jon pleads once more.

“No we can’t. Prepare to die Jon Snow.” Ygritte says knocking an arrow into her bow.

Jon knows he should do something anything but stand there and gawp like a fool, but he can’t. He is rooted to the spot and he knows that that will be his death. Gods what a fool killed like this, he begins to move but before he can do anything, an arrow whizzes past him and hits Ygritte, she slumps forward an arrow through her chest, blood coming out of her mouth. Jon turns round and sees Satin there shaking and quivering, he merely nods and runs to Ygritte then his sword in his hand. He kneels by her and puts his sword on the blood stained ground, he takes her hand and says. “Ygritte please, please stay with me please.”

“I…. I cannot Jon Snow… it hurts.” Ygritte says sputtering as blood comes out. “Please Jon Snow… end it the pain…..”

“I can’t. Not like this Ygritte.” He responds pleading.

“Silly boy…Jon Snow….” Ygritte responds.

“Ygritte?” he asks hating how his voice breaks.

“Do it please Jon….for me.” Ygritte says her voice growing soft.

Jon looks at her then and sees the light begin to dim in her eyes, and he remembers that his father always said it was better to end someone’s suffering if one could. Shaking he pulls his dagger from his belt, and holds it to Ygritte’s throat, he takes a deep breath and says. “Goodbye.” He slits her throat then and as blood flows freely he feels a tear begin to roll down his cheek.

He knows not how long he sits there holding her hand or looking at her, but eventually at some point he puts her hand down and stands shakily. The battle is still going on but it seems they are winning, the wildlings are fewer and fewer in number and yet there is still something off about this whole scene. Something more than just these wildlings that are left, as Jon walks towards where he last saw Satin he sees the bodies of some of his friends lying there unseeingly and he feels anger swell inside of him. But there is nothing he can do for them now, they are gone, to the world where there is no chance for them to come back. He walks on looking more as an observer as more and more of the wildlings are killed, they chose death rather than surrender, and that is something he supposes he can admire them for.

He stands on the stairwell and looks around the scene, there are lots of bodies on the ground, and lots of blood, there is blood everywhere and he knows that they have been pushed to their limit here today and yet there is still more to come. Mance Rayder and some 100,000 wildlings are massing beyond the wall ready to assault them at the first opportunity that makes him sweat with worry there is not a chance that they can stand against that force. As if the gods are laughing at him the sound of hooves draws him from his stupor and makes him look around, he sees someone akin to Ser Allister Thorne riding as if the hounds of the seven hells are chasing after him, something that would be quite a funny sight, were it not for the wildlings chasing after him.  He hears the shouts for them to all form up and he blinks once, then again and pushes the thoughts of despair from his mind and prepares for battle once more.

This time the wildlings have the advantage, they are tired, but nowhere near as tired as Jon and his fellow sworn brothers, and the fighting is slower for the crows and quicker for the free folk. Jon fights and blocks and defends, but cannot kill he does not have the strength left in him to do so. Gods is he tired, and on he pushes, blocking and allowing the blood on the ground to allow for the wildlings to slip and fall.  He tries to get to higher ground but is blocked off by three men, he calls for Ghost and together with a lot of ducking, and swinging and biting the three wildlings are down on the ground either dead or dying. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Grenn facing off against what looks like Rattleshirt, and sees his friend give the man a fair few blows before he too falls to the wildlings. Grief and anger flow through Jon at this and he makes to move towards the man, when an arrow hits his bad leg forcing him down to one knee, another arrow goes whizzing past, but whoever was firing the arrows does not last long for he can feel through Ghost the death of another wildling. He pulls the arrow out of his leg and limps over towards Grenn, all the while the fighting continues and it is going badly for them.

Rattleshirt is there standing over Grenn’s body laughing and taunting his dying friend and this is what compels Jon to draw his sword out, if he is to die he would rather die sword in hand than cowering somewhere.  He advances towards the man killing those who get in his way, blood is dripping from his sword when he gets to the man. The wildling chief does not even bother mocking him, he just advances forward and begins battering away at Jon. Jon manages to get a few of his own blows in, but somehow his strength is not what it was at the start, Ghost is being blocked off from him, and he knows that perhaps the end is coming. His arms are weakening and Longclaw is growing slack in his grip, one swipe and he is on his knees staring his death in the face, and that is when the horns sound and he can hear more hooves, and suddenly Rattleshirt is no more, cut down by an sword, a battle axe wielding a sword now when did that happen?


	9. Creeping Death

**1 st Month of 300 A.C. Castle Black**

**Roderick Dustin**

The battle was fierce and fast. More so than any other battle he had been involved in bar, the whispering wood. Gods it felt good to be back in action, for too long had he been cooped up with nothing to do apart from ride and brood. This, this was what he was made for the urge to fight and kill. His sword, The Bane was getting covered in blood singing as he cut down more and more wildlings. He laughed as they came charging towards him only to be cut down, swinging his sword hacking and slashing, more and more wildlings came charging towards him and they fell to the ground dead or wounded. On he pushed like Creeping Death, making more and more people meet their maker, on it went, swinging and slashing, hacking, ducking, the wildlings were powerless before them. He cut down a man wearing bones the man about to kill the Stark, and that was something Roddy could not allow and so he rode and cut the man down.

The fighting got more fierce as it progressed, the brothers of the Night’s Watch were clearly beginning to break, Roddy and the men he had with him were the difference. The wildlings looked tired as well but on they fought, and for that Roddy could respect them. Yet still his sword hungered for more blood and so he obliged he turned his horse round and brought it back for another round of killing. Creeping death, that was what he had been called during the war in the south, and now the wildlings were meeting their deaths, some with a smile, and others with a laugh. Others still cried out for mercy, and Roddy was happy to give it to them. The mercy of death and a quick and clean kill. Gods this was what he had been missing, the urge to fight. He laughed as more and more men fell to his sword, he and his men as well as the men from Cerwyn and from the Mountain Clans fell on the wildlings driving them to their knees.

Death was riding with them today, more and more men fell, the wildlings were falling like flies and Roddy was roaring with triumph they were winning and the wildlings would not come back to face them, not for a long time. His sword was red from hilt to tip and still there were more wildlings coming to meet their end. Some manages to nick his armour and dent it, but still he continued going, pushing fast and hard, the wildlings fell apart and some were beginning to flee. With their commander dead there was not much more for them to. Their lack of discipline showed through and Roddy roared in triumph as more and more of them either died or fled. The last of the wildlings either died or surrendered and so the battle came to an end. At the end of it all, Roddy had lost some twenty men only, whilst the wildlings and the Night’s Watch had lost many and more men. The clean-up began and once it was done Roddy called for a meeting in the hall of Castle Black for there was much that needed to be done.

Those Black Brothers that were still alive and Roddy counted some twenty of them gave a loud cheer as Roddy and his allies walked into the hall just as the evening meal was being served. Roddy raised his hand and sat on the left of where the Lord Commander would normally sit, and called for silence. When the hall was finally silent, he spoke. “Men of the Watch, you performed admirably today. The wildlings are severely dented and beaten. Whilst I do not think that was all of them, they will think twice before coming back for more.” All cheered then, and when the hall went silent once more he spoke again. “But there is one man who held the wall throughout all of that Jon Snow. A true hero, where is he?”

At this a man Roddy knew to be Ser Allister Thorne spoke. “He has been detained my lord. We received word that he had broken his vows, he consorted with wildlings and actively aided them in getting across the wall.”

There is a lot of murmuring at this and Roddy does not know what to think. “Where is this coming from? From whom did you hear this?”

“Rattleshirt, a wildling whom you killed. He ran with Jon Snow during the man’s time with the wildlings, he said that Jon Snow willingly partook with their schemes, killed Qohrin Halfhand a fellow sworn brother and even slept with a wildling.” Thorne responds.

There is even more murmuring at this and Roddy finds himself looking at Cley and Theo Wull, wondering where to go from here. “Surely it would make sense if we hear what the lad has to say himself? After all these are some serious accusations, it would make sense if we hear from his own mouth what he has done and why he has done it.”

Shouts of agreement follow this statement and reluctantly Thorne allows for two men to go and get Jon Snow from his confinement. Roddy exhales slightly when he sees how much of a ruin Jon is, there are a lot of bruises on his face and from what Roddy can see his body as well. When Jon is brought to stand before him, Roddy winks slightly and then asks. “Jon Snow, you are here to answer for accusations brought forth by your fellow sworn brother Ser Allister. Is it true that you allied yourself with the wildlings and killed your fellow sworn brother Qohrin Halfhand?”

He knows that the mountain clans are getting quite aggravated now, but one look at Theo and the clans begin to settle down they will have their fun soon. Jon to his credit does not look away from him. “It is. But I did it on the orders of the Lord Commander and the Halfhand himself.”

“Lies, the bastard lies.” Janos Slynt says.

“Shut up you toad!” Theo Wull roars.

“And why would the Lord Commander and the Halfhand ask you to do such a thing Jon?” Roddy asks.

“Because we needed to know what the wildlings were doing, and the only way to do that was to become one of them, and to do everything that was necessary to ensure that we got the information needed. If it meant killing then I would kill.” Jon responds.

“Of course he is going to say that, he is a bastard, and we all know that bastards are treacherous by nature.” Slynt says again.

Roddy can feel his patience beginning to wear thin, he looks at Theo and his friend roars. “Do I need to remind you to be quiet toad?”

Slynt looks offended at this but Roddy merely pushes on. “And so you did what needed to be done, and came back at the first available opportunity?”

Jon nods. “Yes, I came back as soon as I could.”

“Not before he broke his vows and slept with a wildling woman though. Or was that part of what the Halfhand asked you to do Snow?” Thorne sneers.

“No it was not, that was a mistake, and it was not supposed to happen. Ygritte was my prisoner before I turned, but then it went somewhere I never thought it would.” Jon responds.

“Ygritte? You see how he calls her by name my lord. This is a bastard not worthy of respect.” Thorne says.

“You watch how you speak of the Ned’s boy!” Artos Flint barks.

Roddy holds his hand up then and says. “I do not see why Jon is being persecuted, we all know that the brothers of the Night’s Watch break their vows on an almost daily basis, going to Mole’s Town. Just because Jon slept with a wildling woman does not mean he is anymore an oath breaker than the rest of you. In fact he is better than all of you as he did his duty and came back. A true oath breaker would not have.”

The brothers of the Watch and the northmen all murmur in agreement. Roddy looks at Cley and then Theo, but Thorne speaks before he can say anything. “Regardless he has broken the vows, and now he must face punishment. I do not want the Watch to be associated with such scum.”

At this Marcus Norrey breaks through and advances towards Thorne. “SCUM? How dare you call The Ned’s boy scum! He is worth ten of you, and more than the rest of you.”

Silence pervades after this, and then Roddy coughs and takes the will from his cousin Donnor, and says. “The Night’s Watch could decide what to do with Jon Snow, but then again the matter is not truly in your hands anymore. You might be wondering why, and this piece of paper that I hold in my hands is the reason. It is the last will and testament of King Robb Stark the King in the North. This will legitimises Jon Snow and names him Jon Stark, and has also named him the heir to the Young Wolf’s Kingdom. Considering that the Young Wolf is dead, Jon is now the King. And if you lay one hand on the king, why, I might just allow the men to kill you Ser Allister. The choice is yours.”

Murmurs follow this, and Roddy looks at Jon and sees the look of complete shock on his face, he knows there will be a lot of explaining that needs to be done, but that can come later. Thorne is sputtering some sort of response. “That makes no matter! The boy swore the vows, he is a member of the Night’s Watch, and no will or legitimisation can change that. There is no kingdom of the north!”

Roddy sees the toad nod his head at this and feels anger growing inside of him. He looks at Theo who steps forward and speaks, Theo Wull the bear of the Mountains built like a mountain himself. His voice thunderous. “The will stands. The Watch, has no power anymore and has not done for a long, long time. We have come to your aid once again to help in dealing with the threat you were made to deal with. Do not say that there is no kingdom in the north, so long as there is a Stark there will always be a kingdom of the north.”

This gets loud shouts of agreement from many of the northmen and even some of the Night’s Watch. Janos Slynt speaks then. “Nonsense. The north is subject to the throne, and the watch does not take part in the affairs of the realm. The boy is sworn to the watch, and so cannot leave. There is no issue with this.”

Roddy looks at the man for a long moment and then responds. “And you are a traitor. You are a fool and a cunt. You betrayed Eddard Stark to the Lannisters, and as such do not have the authority to tell me what can and cannot be done. Speak up again and your head will be adorning a spike.”

Slynt sputters. “That is an insult. You cannot do that, you do not have the authority. Do that and the whole realm will see the north for the barren wasteland that it I s!”

Roddy points to the northmen gathered around the room who have all drawn their weapons now. “These men here are the authority I need. This will is the authority, and the man standing before us is the authority. Jon what do you wish to be done with Janos Slynt?”

Jon looks at him confused for a moment and then says. “I do not know, nor do I care.”

“You see! Even the bastard knows the truth of what I speak!” Slynt says.

“The truth? I know that you are a craven Ser Janos. And I know you would bring shame to the Watch. Roddy do as you must.” Jon says.

Roddy smiles at his friend then and looks to Theo Wull then and says. “Theo do as you will.”

“Gladly.” The mountain of a man says, he stands up and walks towards where Slynt is, he calls out. “Harlon and Torrhen come and hold the man’s arms down.” The mountain’s nephews hold the toad’s arms down. And the man puts his hands around the toad’s head and begins twisting this way and that, Slynt is thrashing, struggling to break free, as the pain surely gets more and more intense. The screams that the man lets loose are ear shattering and Roddy winces in agony. Theo continues twisting the man’s head this way and that, blood is pouring out from where the tendons in the man’s neck have been loosened and then with a sickening crunch the toad’s head is in Theo’s hands and he holds it up.

“Let that be a lesson to those who would cross the north. Lay it on the table Theo.” Roddy says, and as the brothers of the watch and the northmen look at the head some in revulsion some with a mixture of fascination and something else. Roddy looks at Ser Allister then and asks. “Now do you have any more reasons why the King cannot take his true place?” the man looks as if he is going to be violently sick and shakes his head. “Good.” Roddy says before he stands and walks down towards where Jon is standing, he gets down on bended knee before his friend and says. “I could not protect your brother, but I swear from this day to my last that I will be your most loyal and faithful servant. My blood for yours, you are the King in the North!”

Other northerners get down on bended knee and proclaim Jon as King in the North, and Roddy can feel their plan coming together. Much later, after discussions have been had, and they have learnt that there are more wildlings coming from north of the wall, Roddy and Jon are mounted on horses preparing to ride through the ice gates. His king looks at him then and says. “I am not going to ask what happened in the south, not now at least. But I do want to know why you came here, why come so far when you knew not if I would accept?”

“It was simple really. My family did not want to serve Roose Bolton we made a promise to your brother King Robb that would see you crowned should anything happen to him. And we keep our promises.” Roddy responds.

“Very well, but why the show with Slynt? Was that truly necessary?” the king asks.

“No. but Theo had been itching to hit some of those bastards ever since we got here. I suppose he just got carried away.” Roddy replies.

The king smiles then. “I suppose he will enjoy this.” And before Roddy can respond they are riding through the gates and out into the fields north of the wall. With them come 1000 horse most Dustin and Cerwyn men, the clansmen will be going out through the right gate, and turning inward, and the rest of the foot will be going through the left gate turning inward as well. The king looks at him and says. “Remember we must wait for Mance to come to us. He is not a patient man, when he sees us waiting he will come charging.”

“Will the Night’s Watch hold?” Roddy asks looking behind him to see the twenty men of Castle Black standing on the walls, bows in their hands.

“Aye I think so. They know what is at stake.” The king responds, before he turns to his squire. “Satin, sound the horn that should get Mance’s attention.”

Sure enough his squire blows the horn and from the distance Roddy can see a blur coming towards them moving ever quicker, shapes blurring together. His heart begins to beat a bit quicker, and as the blur comes closer, he can see no giants that surprises him but then he does not have enough time to ponder it. The wildlings are on them and so the battle begins. Roddy disappears and the Creeping Death takes over, his sword begins cutting through the wildlings as they come pouring towards him, his sword carving them in two, switching and slashing, hacking and ducking. The wildlings are disorganized and this plays against them. Through and through, the damage is being done and Roddy roars with laughter as they fight and kill the wildlings.

They are pushing forward, he hears men screaming with triumph, some with agony and others in sheer bliss. The war cries of the wildlings and those of the northmen mingle together, and the fighting continues. The Bane is singing with joy, humming and thrumming as it drinks in the blood that he feeds it, men, women and even children die at his hands. Their bodies lie piled on top of one another, the land becomes a red stained mess. And that is when he meets the wildling king, Mance Rayder the man looks rough, and as he fights the man even on horse, Roddy can see that the man has some skill. They exchange blows and he can feel tiredness growing, but still they fight. His blows hammering away at the Wildling King’s defences until his sword takes the man’s head off. He roars in triumph and continues the killing. The king joins him blood on his sword, and the head of someone the king calls Tormund Giantsbane on the end of the sword. The fighting continues for a little while longer until the wildlings begin to turn tail and flee, leaderless, the body is covered with their dead. Roddy and the men roar in triumph and shout for their new king, the hero of the north. A Stark is back and so too is the north.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. A Crown Upon His Head

**1 st Month of 300 A.C. Castle Black**

**King Jon II Stark**

It was strange being King, it was something if he was being honest with himself he had sometimes dreamed of as a child, being King of the North, or King of Winter, he cared not, but if he could rule alongside his brother he would have done so gladly. But those dreams had been the dreams of a child, a child who did not know the harshness of the world as he knew it now. His brother was dead and now it was for Jon to lift the burden and make sure the north was free once more. Since being declared King there had been a lot he had needed to do and there were times when Jon had worried he was not doing the crown and his men justice, there were times when he wondered why they would have been so willing in declaring him king, when he had no experience in leading.

That was partially why he had come to speak to Maester Aemon the maester of Castle Black, to seek guidance and advice. The maester was sat in his usual chair in the rookery when Jon found him. “Ah Your Grace, to what do I owe the pleasure?” the maester asked.

“Please maester, call me Jon. I might wear a crown but I am the same person I have always been.” Jon responds.

The maester chuckles somewhat. “A King cannot be the same person he was when he was but a boy. Responsibilities must make you hard and iron my king. But you did not come to discuss the details of what to call you now did you Your Grace? So tell me what I can do for you.”

“I hoped you could give me some advice Maester. I find that I am king, but I do not know what to do half the time. Nor do I know whom to trust. I feel strange sometimes, and sometimes I feel happy. You were the son of a king, and could have been a king yourself what is this I am feeling?” Jon asks.

The maester is silent a moment as if lost in thought, but eventually he does reply. “You are nervous yes?”

“Yes maester.” Jon says.

“Well there you go, it is alright to be nervous Your Grace. It is a heavy burden you have had placed on your shoulders. To be a king now, oh I do not envy you that is for certain, but you have the skills needed to lead the north and your people through these challenging times.” The maester says.

“How can you be so sure maester?” Jon queries. “I have never led men before, I have never fought in a proper war before. Why should these hardened northmen fight for me and even die for me? I am not my father and I am not my brother.”

“And that is where you will benefit the most. Were you anything like your father or brother, the weight of expectation would crush you. Now they just want you to lead them to victory, yes that is a heavy weight to bear, but you can do it Your Grace. I know you can, after all you lead the garrison here during the wildling attack and you commanded your northmen to victory against Mance Rayder and his wildlings. You have shown yourself to be a good man and a true leader Your Grace. Roderick Dustin does not seem to be the type of person to come half way across the kingdom just to get someone if he did not believe they could do the task required of them.” the maester responds sagely.

“It could be just that he was carrying out my brother’s will maester. After all they were all loyal to Robb right to the end.” Jon muses.

“That is true. But I heard of how fiercely they fought for you when Ser Allister and Ser Janos wanted you to be imprisoned. That does not suggest that they are doing it simply because of your brother’s memory. No they see something in you, they see a man who can lead them to greatness once more.” The maester replies.

“How though? How do I do that and not tarnish my brother or father’s memories? How can I do this and not feel as if I am breaking my very being.” Jon asks.

The maester chuckles softly. “The fact that you accepted the crown shows that you have not broken your very being.”

“It’s not as if I could have refused though maester!” Jon protests. “Not with them all on bended knee before me.”

The maester laughs once more. “You can always refuse Jon, you are a Stark, you could ask them to march to the seven hells and they would do it.”

Jon considers this and then says softly. “I… I still grieve for my brother and my family, but I… I do not feel guilty for accepting the crown. I…I have always wanted Winterfell, but the guilt is not there and I do not why that is.”

“Because your brother wanted you to have it. He wanted you to be the king should he die. You have a monumental task before you Your Grace. Let us not deny that. You must heal and unite a war torn kingdom. But you have the skills to do it, you showed that this past week by fighting the wildlings. These men will follow you. You do not need to be your brother, or anyone else. Just be yourself and your men will follow you and respect you.” The maester responds.

“So I should just be myself and they will come to follow me?” Jon asks.

“You sound surprised.” The maester chuckles. “Yes, just be yourself Your Grace. Do not be anyone else, or try to be anyone else. Your people will not thank you for that. Do what you believe to be right, and trust that your instinct will guide you. There will be tough times ahead for you and for us all, but persevere and remember that all is not lost and you shall succeed Your Grace.”

“Thank you maester Aemon,” Jon says as he moves toward the door he pauses and says. “I will not forget the watch when this is over and done. I will be here to protect us from the darkness coming.”

“I know you will Your Grace.” The maester says and Jon leaves the rookery then.

Jon walks down the steps of the rookery heading towards where he knows Sam and Satin will be, and sure enough he finds them standing in what was once Grenn’s room. He coughs slightly and sees them both turn and bow. “Come now, we don’t need those formalities amongst friends.” Jon chides. Both his friends rise up then and he says. “I wanted to speak with both of you, but let us move to another room.” And so they walk from Grenn’s former room to Sam’s, and once there Jon closes the door and sits down on the bed. He waits for his two friends to do the same and once they are seated he speaks. “As you know I will be leaving for the south soon enough. And I wanted to know whether either of you wished to come with me?”

A silence and then Satin says. “I would be honoured to Your Grace. I have sworn no vows to this place. And besides now that most of the good men are either dead or gone, the Watch does seem as if it would go to the dogs. I would be more than honoured to march with you.”

Jon smiles at his friend then. “Good, you will be my squire Satin. What of you Sam will you come with me old friend?”

Sam seems to be contemplating this for a long time before finally saying. “I do not know Your Grace. I am a sworn brother and I have no royal family to take exception to the vows of the Night’s Watch. I am maester Aemon’s helper as well, wherever he goes I must go. As much as I would love to come with you, I think it would be best if for now that I remain here.”

Jon sighs he had expected as much. “Whilst I am sad that you cannot come, I will not force you to. Just now that there is always a place at my side waiting for you Sam.” His friend smiles and then Jon asks. “But now I must ask, where the hells have you been Sam? We all thought you lost or dead.”

His friend blushes then and responds. “For a time I thought I was as well. After the mutiny at Craster’s Keep I did not know what to do, and then suddenly I remembered that one of his daughters Gilly was here and she had had a boy, and I thought I couldn’t allow the men to get to her and the babe I just couldn’t. So I went to where she and the babe were and somehow she decided to come with me, and so we walked and walked, and there were times where I thought we were being followed but I wasn’t sure. Gods there was so much going on when we were walking back down to the Wall I thought we would be dead before we ever got back. I swear once or twice I saw an Ice Spider. Whatever it was it was huge!”

“An Ice Spider? Aren’t those the things that the White Walkers ride? Or at least according to the stories they are.” Jon says.

His friend nods. “Aye Your Grace. But I was convinced I saw one or maybe even two of them as we walked back to Castle Black. Bloody big things!”

“That’s a point how did you get back to Castle Black and why did it take you so long?” Jon asks.

“We went through the Nightfort Your Grace. There’s a secret entranceway that only opens up to black brothers.” Sam says, his friend looks as if he wants to say more but for whatever reason is not.

“The Nightfort?” Jon asks. “What is it like?”

“A ruin, a terrifying ruin.” Sam responds shivering somewhat.

Jon laughs then and then asks. “What are you going to do with Gilly Sam? You are a sworn brother of the Watch and cannot keep her around here. The brothers will begin getting ideas in her head.”

At this his friend looks somewhat abashed and asks softly. “I was wondering if you could take her. She would be a good cook and cleaner for the camp.”

“No absolutely not.” Jon says shaking his head vehemently. “A war camp is no place for a girl and a baby. Not a chance Sam. Either she remains here or she needs to go back north of the wall. She would not last a moment in the war camp.”

“But she would be under your protection! Who would dare harm her?” Sam protests.

“I cannot always be there to protect her Sam. I have battles to fight. I have a war to win.” Jon responds.

“Satin could care for her whilst you are away fighting!” Sam responds.

Jon is about to speak when Satin interrupts. “He is speaking the truth you know. I won’t be needed all the time Your Grace. I can fight and help look after Gilly and the babe.”

Jon grits his teeth then. “She and the babe can come. But only if you come as well Sam. I do not have the time to deal with this now I must go and speak with my lords.” And with that Jon turns and leaves the room.

As he walks towards the chambers of the Dark, where he knows the northmen, his northmen are waiting, he meets his friend Roddy. Roddy Dustin named for Roddy the Ruin, a smart lad, a fine warrior and an absolute arse when he wants to be. “Why do you look so grim Your Grace? I thought you’d be smiling from head to toe. No longer stuck on this freezing pile of shit, and getting to avenge your family.”

“It is a little bit more complicated than that Roddy. I do have to plan the war and make sure my lords follow my commands.” Jon responds.

“Och you’re not being an over thinking little shit of a king are you Your Grace?” his friend teases. “Come now surely you know that these lot will do anything you ask of them. You are their king, you are a Stark they will do whatever you want.”

“But I don’t have any experience, how do I know they will follow me?” Jon asks.

His friend rolls his eyes. “You really are an idiot Your Grace. Just trust me, wait and see what happens in here now and then you will see.”

With that they both enter the chamber to find Hugo Wull, his brother Theo Wull, Jon Burley, Artos Flint, Willam Norrey, Arlon Harclay and Brandon Liddle all gathered as well as Cley Cerwyn. They all stand when he enters and once he has bid them sit down he speaks. “I thank you all for coming. We have a long and dangerous task ahead of us, the north is divided and broken. The war with the Ironborn has cost us a great deal. I intend to right that wrong. Roose Bolton will not hold the north for long that much I can promise you. There are several places we could start this campaign, Deepwood Motte, Torrhen’s Square or even Winterfell, I would hear your thoughts on which one to go to.”

Cley Cerwyn speaks then. “I would avoid Winterfell Your Grace. It is a ruin, and whilst I can understand your desire to return there, it would serve no purpose other than to starve the men and to lower morale. No Winterfell must wait. Deepwood Motte though could be good.”

There are murmurs of agreement and even though he wishes it were not so, Jon knows Cley speaks the truth. Lord Wull speaks. “The lad speaks truly. Winterfell though it pains me to say is a ruin. Right now the Motte is held by squids, not that they are very bright. If we march on the Motte, the Forresters, the Boles and the Branchs will join us and then we can finally have some squid for dinner.”

Roars of agreement follow this statement, and then Theo Wull the Mountain of the North speaks. “Aye, gods I have waited to get some squid. It is said the woman who leads them has teats the size of an aurochs!”

Raucous laughter follows this, and Jon smiles though there is one issue that he wants to address. “Will the Forresters come with us though? If I recall correctly Lord Gregor died at the Red Wedding as did Rodrik, and the rest of the family is scattered to the wins, one is in King’s Landing and one is a hostage of the Whitehills. Will they come when they have no one to lead them?”

At this Roddy speaks. “Oh they will come, for you forget Asher Forrester. Though he is a cunt, he is a true warrior and I do believe has made it back to Ironrath.”

“Can he be trusted?” Jon asks.

“Not as far as you can throw him no. but he will want to keep his head on his shoulders, and the Forresters have always been Stark men.” Roddy responds.

Jon nods and then asks. “What of the north as a whole, what plans has the bastard of Bolton been making?”

“Bolton’s bastard has been moving on Moat Cailin to allow for an easier entrance for his father. But he has also been ensuring that the minor northern lords do fealty as well, Ethan Forrester refused to come to the Dreadfort and was taken in the night and killed. He has also been causing trouble in Hornwood, but you already knew that.” Roddy responds.

“And what of your own father Roddy? I am surprised he did not come here himself.” Jon asks.

His friend looks somewhat uncomfortable then but responds all the same. “For the sake of keeping my brother alive, he is siding with the Boltons but is doing things that will undermine them every step of the way. Trust me, what my father is doing will aid you in the long run Your Grace.”

Jon nods and then says. “And I trust the Mormonts shall be joining us on the march to Deepwood Motte?” Roddy nods and then Jon asks. “What of the Glovers, I am surprised that Galbart and Robett have not tried to take their home back.”

At this Roddy responds. “They are in White Harbour, reminding Lord Lamprey about the promise his ancestors made a long time ago. They are hoping to raise enough men to be of use for when the true fighting begins Your Grace.”

Jon is somewhat taken aback by this but accepts it all the same. Eventually it is decided there is not much more to be discussed and so the meeting comes to an end. He stands and leaves the room, Ghost at his heels, and as he comes to where he once slept Sam finds him and says. “I have thought long and hard about it, and I want to come with you. It’s not safe here, it truly isn’t safe here. I can be a healer for the men that fight. I want to come with you Jon. But I want Gilly and the babe to come.”

Jon looks at his friend and says. “Very well they may come. But they are your responsibility. If something happens to them it is on you, and if they get in the way it is on you. Do you understand?”

“Yes Your Grace, I do.” Sam replies.

“Good, now if you would excuse me I need to begin readying my horse. We leave after the afternoon meal.” Jon says. Before walking past his friend and out of the room. Finally he will be doing something for his family.

 

 


	11. A Trial

**1 st Month of 300 A.C. Red Keep**

**Tyrion Lannister**

This was the day he had both looked forward to and dreaded, the day his innocence would be proven. The stands that had once held the Tourney of the Hand were now being used for people to come and witness his trial by combat. He was not fighting in it himself, no he had asked Prince Oberyn to take the role of his champion, and the Prince had agreed, though he suspected that it was more to do with whom Cersei had chosen as the Crown’s champion, the behemoth that was Gregor Clegane, the Mountain that Rides. The chance for revenge for past insults Tyrion suspected was what drove the Prince he just hoped that the Prince did not do something stupid that might well ruin his own chances of survival, as he did quite like being alive.

Right now though all he could do was stand and watch, the chains were still round his arms and his legs, and his nephew Tommem was sat on the throne, where once his brother had sat. The boy was a sweet lad, and with the correct guidance could become a good king, perhaps as good as some of the Targaryen Kings. Whether or not he would get such guidance from any of those who wished to rule through him was something Tyrion was not completely sure about. When his nephew declared the contest to begin, Tyrion found his eyes riveted to the arena, where Prince Oberyn had advanced out dressed in the barest set of armour Tyrion had ever seen. The mountain in contrast was dressed in solid plate armour from head to foot. A weight that might protect him but would slow him down.

Tyrion watched as the two competitors circled around each other, neither making the first move, his own heart was hammering in his chest, gods he was nervous so very nervous. The mountain made the first move, swinging his sword erratically, the red viper moved back and raised his spear in defence, a loud clang sounded and Tyrion scrunched his eyes up at the sound. When he opened them up, the two had broken off and were circling round one another. The Mountain moved forward again and swung, the viper moved to the left and jabbed his spear and hit the mountain in one of the exposed spots of skin, the man winced, and Tyrion felt a flutter of hope. A flutter that was dimmed when the mountain began his barrage of attacks, swinging and slashing, driving the Mountain further and further back across the ground, Tyrion’s heart was hammering.

The mountain continued his attack, hammering away trying to break through the viper’s defences. And yet the sword never truly hit the spear, it missed and just touched but never solidly connected. Tyrion’s heart was in his mouth the whole time, watching the spectacle, the viper was dancing backward, wearing the mountain out, making him exert all of his strength. But gods was Tyrion nervous, he admired the man’s courage, but knew he would feel so much safer if the man was trying to fight instead of allowing the Mountain to attack him so. The mountain continued on his rapid attack, hitting and swinging, at least this time the viper was not ducking, he was raising his spear to meet the sword. But that only served to make Tyrion more nervous, the spear looked so flimsy compared to the sword.

Yet when the mountain pulls back after his latest attack, Tyrion sees the man panting and huffing, he is big but he also tires, and it is this that Tyrion knows will be his best hope. The Viper moves forward then circling his spear backward and forward, and then begins jabbing and thrusting his spear this way and that at the mountain. The man manages to raise his sword once or twice to block the jabs, and yet the man is tired and his sword is not raised quickly or high enough to prevent blows coming from underneath the plate, and blood begins to flow from the wounds the spear leaves. Tyrion’s heart is hammering, is this it? Is he going to be saved?

The Viper continues with his probing attack, moving this way and that, tempting the mountain to lean forward and attack. The viper moves left, then right, and the mountain follows his movements heavy and slow. The viper is taunting him now, “Do you know who I am?” the man asks as he opens a new wound on the mountain.

“Some man about to die.” The mountain pants.

“I am Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell, brother of Princess Elia Martell. You raped her and you killed her!” the viper responds.

“Who?” the mountain asks, as another jab connects.

“Elia Martell, you raped her and you killed her!” the viper shouts.

The mountain grunts, and another jab comes through and another roar of pain, the mountain is slowing down now. And the viper sensing this begins jabbing and thrusting his spear quicker and quicker now. Blood is pouring through and when the mountain drops to his knees Tyrion can sense victory. “I want you to say it before you die. You raped Elia Martell and killed her!”

The mountain groans then, and Tyrion worries if the viper will get carried away. “Say it!” the viper shouts. “You, raped her, you killed her! Her name was Elia Martell!”

“FINE! I raped her and I killed her, and now you will join her!” the mountain roars as he reaches for the viper. The viper dances out of the way though and the mountain falls down. Blood pools on the ground where the mountain has fallen, Tyrion looks at the sight his heart hammering, waiting for something to go wrong, but when the mountain does not get up indeed when the mountain stops moving, Tyrion breathes a sigh of relief.

The crowd roars when it realises what has happened, and Tyrion looks briefly at the place where he knows his father and sister are sitting and smiles smugly. But before he can do too much celebrating the viper comes to him and says. “I told you we would get justice Tyrion.”

“Indeed you did my prince, and I thank you for it. Now might I ask what you are going to do?” Tyrion asks.

The viper grins. “Celebrate my lord. And I invite you to do so as well.” The prince responds.

Before Tyrion can respond though maester Pycelle stands and says. “In the eyes of gods and men, with Ser Gregor’s death, Tyrion Lannister has been acquitted of all charges. He is a free man.”

Another roar goes up then and Tyrion smiles. His smile grows even wider as they undo the chains around him and he has free movement for the first time in weeks. The joy only continues to grow as it sinks in, and he joins Prince Oberyn in the celebrations for his release and acquittal. They go to one of the finest brothels in King’s Landing, and Tyrion drinks and fucks and drinks and fucks. And by the gods to be free again, it is a relief and such a blessing that as he is fucking one of the whores he wonders if perhaps he should start believing in the gods again, but then he remembers Shae, and he decides against it. At some point during the night he managed to stumble back to the lion’s house and sleeps.

Upon waking up he sees his uncle Kevan standing there looking at him somewhat disapprovingly. “Ah uncle, so nicshe to see you. Why are you here?” Tyrion drawls his head pounding.

“Your father wishes to see you Tyrion. Get dressed and we shall ride to the keep.” Uncle Kevan says.

Tyrion watches through one half open eye as his uncle walks down the steps, and slowly he manages to force himself up and to get changed. What seems like a lifetime later, he is riding with his uncle through the streets of King’s Landing, and then he is in the Red Keep walking toward the tower of the hand. He nods at his brother, and then at Ser Addam and enters his father’s solar. “Ah father, so nice to see you. A shame that the trial did not go to plan.”

His father says nothing for a moment and then merely says. “Sit down Tyrion.” Tyrion sits down then and looks at his father, waiting for him to speak and when his father does speak the words he says have Tyrion sputtering. “You survived the trial by combat that is true. And whilst the whole ordeal could have been avoided, you are innocent of any crimes, and now we must discuss your future.”

“What? What do you mean my future?” Tyrion asks.

“Well it is evident that you cannot remain here in King’s Landing. Even if you are innocent, your sister will still want you dead. The death of her son has left Cersei slightly unhinged, and I mean to see her away from here so that what happened to Joffrey does not happen to Tommem.” His father responds.

“Good luck with that, she will fight tooth and nail to remain here.” Tyrion says.

“She will her duty to this family and be happy that I am not asking her to do something else.” His father responds curtly. “Now as for you, the issue is that whilst you have been proven innocent, there are those who would wish you dead to try to get into your sister’s and Mace Tyrell’s good books. That is something I cannot allow.”

Tyrion is surprised. “I thought that was something you wanted father. After all you did allow the trial to happen when you know I am innocent.”

His father stares at him then, and Tyrion feels like curling up into a ball and hiding. “I allowed the trial to happen because it was a way to soothe both your sister and the Tyrells. We need the Tyrells to hold King’s Landing and the realm together, without them this throne will not last. But you are innocent, and that is what matters. You must remain alive now. You might be a dwarf, a kinslayer and a nuisance but you are smart. I must admit that though it pains me to say so. And as such you need to remain alive otherwise when I am gone Cersei will be Lady of the Rock and this realm will fall.”

“So you allowed me to think I was going to die to pacify my moron of a sister and the flowers? I thought lions did not care for the opinion of sheep?” Tyrion snaps.

“We do not, but lions do sometimes need to allow for others to have some leeway, otherwise we shall find ourselves hunted. We have reminded the realm that we have claws, now we must rebuild. And you will be central to that.” His father responds calmly.

“I will?” Tyrion asks both surprised and suspicious.

“Yes, you are still married to Sansa Stark. And now I must ask you did she have a hand in killing Joffrey?” his father states.

“No, you know just as well as I do what Joffrey was, though Sansa had every reason to do so, she would not do something like this. This seems more like a job our allies would do.” Tyrion responds.

His father’s reaction or rather lack of a reaction tells him all he needs to know. Eventually his father takes a sip of water and says. “You are still wed to Sansa Stark, and despite what the man might think, I was not born yesterday. I know that she fled with Petyr Baelish, and I know that the man will try to use her to claim the north. You are to go to the Vale with your sellsword and some men from here to the Vale, there one of your clansmen will be waiting for you. They will take you to the Eyrie, and it is there you will get your wife and claim the north.”

“Why should I believe I will make it that far and now be killed?” Tyrion asks.

“Because if I wanted you dead you would not be speaking to me now. Now go and pack your things. You leave tomorrow.” His father responds.


	12. Durin's Day

**2 nd Month of 300 A.C. The Neck**

**Durin Dustin**

The neck was a swamp, truly it was, a dark and damp swamp. And by the gods did he hate it, riding in chains was no fun either. At least his uncle had the sense to keep him chained, many others particularly Hosteen Frey had wondered why he was being kept in chains, and when Durin had had the chains taken off he had come very close to killing Frey, only the reminder of something his father had once said kept him from doing so. They were getting closer to the Moat and Durin knew that a meeting with Roose Bolton would be coming, the man had not sought to speak with him since their last meeting and because of that Durin had begun running through everything he could think of in trying to escape. None of the ideas he had would work, not unless the cranongmen attacked and they had not done so, probably due to his own father’s orders, for none refused Willam Dustin anything, not if they wanted to live. And so he had talked it through with Smalljon and they had both agreed that next time he spoke with his uncle he would toe the line for now.

As luck would have it a messenger had come that morning and told him that his uncle wished to speak with him. And now here he was chained at the wrists but free to move otherwise looking at his uncle in his tent. The Lord of the Dreadfort looked worn and tired, but whether that was from worry or from the march Durin knew not. His uncle’s voice was soft when he bid him sit and softer still when he spoke again. “Our travels are nearing an end nephew. Soon we shall be at Moat Cailin, and back in the north. But before that happens I need to know whether or not I can trust you to play your role.”

Durin is silent as he thinks over what the man is saying, the anger is still there but now that he has had time to think he can see the benefits of giving his uncle what he wants. “And what role would you have me play uncle?” he asks.

“You will pledge yourself to myself and my son and promise not to take up arms against us. And should you do that I shall allow you to return to your family at Barrowton. Furthermore, when the time comes I will consider arranging a marriage between my daughter and your brother Roderick.” His uncle replies.

This stops Durin’s thoughts, his uncle actually offering to tie Romhilda to Roddy? Gods his brother would be over the moon, it is no secret that his brother loves their cousin. He considers this a moment. “And what would happen if I did not submit?”

“Then your life would not be a life at all. You have heard the rumours of Ramsay no doubt, well they are not rumours, and they are truths. Should you refuse to submit, and do as I ask, your fate will be in my bastard’s hands.” His uncle replies calmly.

The mere thought of the bastard makes Durin shudder, and he is about to agree when he thinks of something his father once said. “You are afraid of your bastard though are you not uncle? You are afraid of how wild he is and how unpredictable he is.”

His uncle is silent a moment before responding. “Whatever Ramsay has is because I gave it to him. But yes, I would be a fool not to be afraid of Ramsay. He is an angry man, and angry men are dangerous because they are rash. Why whatever are you trying to imply?”

“Well I mean surely you of all people must know what Ramsay will do when he learns that your wife is with child. He will try and kill her and the babe. Any child your wife bears is a threat to him and his chance to claim the Dreadfort, that he has not already killed Romhilda speaks volumes of how strong she is.” Durin responds.

His uncle looks at him then and asks. “And what exactly are you suggesting then Durin?”

“Give me a chance to fight the bastard, and I know I can kill him. And your children by the Frey girl survive and live to adulthood. Then you will never have to look over your shoulder for when the bastard might try and kill you.” Durin responds.

Something flashes in his uncle’s eyes then and he is not sure whether it is temptation or pride but just as quickly as it appeared it is gone. His uncle’s voice is calm. “A tempting offer nephew, but one you are in no position to make just now. When Ramsay’s usefulness runs out I will be the one to remove him. As for you and your family, the future does not look so bleak. Bend the knee and I will give you land, much more land than your house has had since you were kings.”

“What land? Where would you get the land from?” Durin asks.

“From those who seek to oppose me. There is a new power in the north and for that to last I need support, bend the knee and recognise that authority and I could well give you more land Torrhen’s Square is there for the taking, Winterfell even if you wish. There is more than one Stark girl after all.” His uncle responds.

The offer is tantalizing for Durin, Winterfell? That, that seems extraordinary, but he knows it cannot be, his uncle would kill him as soon as he ran out of use. No he must toe the line here. “More land does sound good uncle. If I bend the knee I will do it on one condition though, when we return to the north, you let me go free, and leave me be.”

His uncle looks at him long and hard then and final says softly. “That seems reasonable. Now get down on one knee and swear fealty.”

And so pushing his anger and pride back, Durin stands up and bends on one knee before his uncle and says. “I Durin of the House Dustin, heir to Barrowton, do hereby swear my loyalty and fealty to you Roose of House Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort and Warden of the North. I do hereby promise not to take arms against you so long as the oath remains standing.”

“Rise.” His uncle says. “Steelshanks shall take your chains off.” The man comes into the tent and does as such.

Durin thanks his uncle and before leaving says. “If the same could be done for Smalljon I would be grateful uncle. I know he will do as you ask as well.” His uncle nods and Durin walks out of the tent.

Relief flows through him as he walks out of the tent, and back out into the swamp that is their camp. He walks around and thinks of the deal he has just made with his uncle, though a part of him is appalled by what he has just done, another part of him knows it was for the best. His mother always did say that when one cannot beat a snake, one might as well join it until the snake shows weakness, and Durin now knows what his uncle’s weakness is he will not last long not with Ramsay Snow alive and breathing.

He sees Smalljon unchained and lumbering around looking slightly lost, Roddy calls him over and they talk and eat and talk some more. They will be riding soon enough, but until then they pass the time talking about what they are going to do when they get back north. Both decide that they are looking forward to seeing Roose Bolton fall, and that when it does happen they want to be the ones to watch his head roll onto the floor. Such thoughts though end when the shout comes that they are marching, and so both Roddy and Jon mount their horses, and soon are off riding toward the Moat.

For one reason or another, his uncle has decided that he and Smalljon are to ride in the front alongside him, and so they do. They ride in silence, but Durin can feel the nerves and the anticipation as the Moat comes closer and closer into view, and when the drawbridge gate is raised and they are told to ride on he breathes a sigh of relief. The bastard and his father are there to greet him. “Welcome father, Moat Cailin and the north are yours.” The bastard says.

His uncle merely nods and then looks at him and says. “You may go back to your father now Durin.”

Durin mumbles his thanks and rides forward joining his father, his father merely nods at him showing that they will speak later. And the bastard speaks again. “The Ironborn have been killed as asked father, and the north now awaits you.”

Bolton nods. “I thank you for that Ramsay. Your bride is here somewhere, help her to her room and then retire. It has been a long journey and we all need to rest. And some of us wish to know our family once more.” With that Bolton rides on as do his men, leaving Durin with his father.

Durin and his father ride towards the children’s tower where his father and the men from Barrowton and the rills are based, and once they are inside his father embraces him. He moves back as if to look at him and asks. “You are well son?”

“As well as can be father. What of you? I heard you helped in taking the Moat?” Durin responds.

“Pah, I did nothing. The bastard used his plaything. Theon Greyjoy did the work, the bastard merely did some flaying.” His father responds.

Durin is shocked by this news. “Theon Greyjoy is here?”

“Yes, he is the bastard’s plaything. But enough of that tell me how you managed to convince Roose to get you out of chains?” his father asks.

“I had to promise to not take up arms against him or his son, and I had to recognise him as Warden of the north. It felt like a betrayal father, truly it did. I do not know how you managed to do it.” Durin says truthfully.

“I did it because I needed to ensure you were safe. And because there is more going on in the north than Roose thinks there is. There is still a Stark in the north.” His father whispers.

Durin looks at his father completely surprised now. “There is? Who?”

“A bastard at the wall who was named heir by the young wolf for that sham of a wedding.” His father responds.

“Jon? Jon Snow?” Durin asks.

“The one and the same. We are going to end the Boltons once and for all, and we will make sure that they never come back. Your uncle has been sent out to get Romhilda from Hornwood and should be back at Barrowton once these curs have left. We shall end the Boltons from the inside.” His father responds.

“What about the Lannisters though? Surely when they see what is happening they will send aid.” Durin enquires.

“They will be too busy eating away at one another to do anything about the north.” His father responds confidently. “And besides, Bolton himself will be looking over his shoulder. The bastard has got his uses.”

“Uses? What sort of uses?” Durin asks not sure if he likes where this is going.

“The bastard likes to think he is our equal, he has always wished to be a Bolton. What he does not realise is that his methods are less than savoury and therefore do not bring him allies. He lacks subtlety, but he also hungers for approval, planting suggestions in his head and making him think they are his own will make him ours, and then when the time comes, father and son will fight.” His father states.


	13. A Barrow Town

**2 nd Month of 300 A.C. Barrowton**

**Lord Willam Dustin**

The Boltons, a strange family, one which had always sort of looked to be on the fringes of mainstream society in the north, always lurking there in the shadows, the Starks most powerful bannermen but never truly accepted as such. And now Roose Bolton had achieved what his forefathers had always craved, he was Warden of the North effectively its ruler, and yet there were things about the man that Willam knew that could bring his house of cards tumbling down. Bolton was a quiet man and cunning but he was old, very old, in fact if Willam remembered correctly he was roughly the same age as Willam’s own father, or rather the age Willam’s father would have been. A quiet land, a quiet people was what Bolton liked, and he was determined to see that here in the north, whether or not that would happen was another thing. The bastard, yes the bastard was the true threat to Bolton’s reign in the north, for he was hot headed and stupid. Yes he was cunning but for Willam, his cunning was laughable, the bastard would fall and with him would go his father.

The Boltons clearly did not like one another, as was evidenced by their strained faces and their looks of disgust whenever the other was not looking. It was quite amusing to Willam as he sat in the Great Hall of Barrowton watching the people eat and drink, making merry. The feast is being held as much to welcome the new Warden of the North and the new Lord of Winterfell as it is to welcome his son Durin back. Those lords in attendance apart from himself and his goodfather, include Lord Domeric Whitehill a young man hungry for glory, Lady Denora Flint a strong and stern woman, Lord Artos Ryder his own bannerman and Lord Harwood Stout.

Onn the high table, Lord Whitehill is speaking animatedly to his wife. “Oh yes, it was such a shame that those two boys were killed by the Ironborn such a shame. Lord Ramsay did such a noble thing by killing all those who were left in that castle. Better that than the horrors that Theon Greyjoy inflicted on them.”

“Oh yes indeed my lord,” Willam hears his wife say. “The Ironborn got what they deserved but with there being more Ironborn still in the north one must wonder what our new Warden and Lord of Winterfell shall do.”

“If I were Lord Roose I would send men to hit the Ironborn right now whilst they are waiting for aid and support from their mainland. They are not going to get any of course but it would make for a good battle.” Whitehill says.

“Was there not some trouble in the Iron Islands over the succession? Perhaps this could allow for the Ironborn to be quite torn, the more divided they are the better it is for us.” His wife says shrewd as ever.

“Indeed and I agree my lady. We must get justice for those who have fallen to the Ironborn. I am just surprised that the Glovers have not come here, surely if they are serious about freeing their home from the Ironborn there is no better person to go to for help than the Warden of the North.” Lord Whitehill says.

“The Glovers never have been the brightest of people my lord. It seems they have gotten caught in the Merman’s web. Lord Wyman I am sure will deal with them accordingly.” His wife responds.

“Indeed my lady wife is correct. I could not stand to have such fools here in my home. The fewer the better I think.” Willam responds. “But of course with news coming of Stannis Baratheon’s arrival at the Wall we must be united when we face this new foe. We cannot be divided otherwise the fool will think to use that against us.”

There are some murmurs of agreement at this and then Willam hears his goodbrother speak. “Stannis Baratheon is a threat, my sources report he has some 5,000 men with him at the Wall. And with the Watch still needing to elect a new Lord Commander he could be there for some time. I have heard he means to settle the wildlings in the gift. As if he has the right to do so.”

“And that is why he will not get much northern support,” Willam replies. “The Wildlings are not northmen, they are barbarians and they will not be welcome here. There is too much history and too much antagonism. Regardless Stannis might well die from starvation before he even makes it south.”

“That is very true my lord,” Roose responds, before he turns to Smalljon and says. “Lord Jon, send word to Last Hearth tell your uncle that before he leaves he is to cut off any and all supplies to the wall. If they are to aid our enemy let them suffer as well.”

The heir to Last Hearth nods and Willam then asks “My lord, whilst I do not mean to dampen the festivities, I must ask what do you plan on doing with regards to the Ironborn in Deepwood Motte and Torrhen’s Square. Surely if you wish to win over the people of the north, removing the Ironborn from these two places is a sure fire way to win their trust.”

Lord Bolton is silent a moment then in his soft voice responds. “Nothing. The Ironborn will soon run out of food and starve. They have been abandoned by their supposed king. Euron Greyjoy looks toward the south and the Reach. They will have no support and no food, and that is when I shall send them terms. Surrender and join the Watch or refuse and die.”

“A prudent course my lord. But one might wonder if this might be a chance to allow Lord Ramsay to prove himself. He will be the lord of Winterfell after all and the northmen do always look to Winterfell for guidance.” Willam suggests.

If his goodbrother hears the hint of a threat in his words he does not show it. His voice is soft when he responds. “That is true, but my son is not someone fit for commanding a true army. No he is better served getting his new wife to be with child.” Bolton stands then and says. “Excuse me my lord I have some business that must needs be discussed with my master at arms.” With that the man walks down from the high table and down to where his man Steelshanks Walton is sat.

When he is gone, Willam looks at the bastard and the mere look he gives makes the bastard stand and get up from where he is sat, and move over to take his father’s vacated seat. “You are enjoying the feast my lord?” Willam asks.

The bastard looks like a little child when he responds. “Oh yes my lord very much so. The feast is just fantastic as is the food.”

Willam swallows down the revulsion that comes to him at that moment and instead he says. “You know your father does not think you should aid him in dealing with the Ironborn.”

The bastard’s eyes narrow then. “What do you mean my lord?”

“Well he did tell me that he does not think you are fit for commanding an army to retake Torrhen’s Square or Deepwood Motte. He believes it his right as Warden of the North to do these things, and not your duty.” Willam says.

The bastard all but growls. “My father is a fool, he is an old fool. He cannot stand against the Ironborn and his way would take far too long. Stannis is in the north now as well, we must be ready to deal with him and prevent him from gaining support. I will not allow my father to do this and remove my authority.”

“Indeed, and I agree with you my lord. You are the Lord of Winterfell, you are soon to be wed to a Stark. It should be you leading the charge not your father. Your father is an old man who is like to die soon. If you want the respect of these lords you must lead them in battle and show them what you mean to do.” Willam suggests.

“Yes I will do that. I must go and speak with my boys.” The bastard says standing up and walking down towards where the bastard boys sat.

Once the bastard has gone he feels his wife lean in and whisper. “That was very clever of you my love. Now both men are going to be running to try and find their allies in this sea of snakes.”

Willam smiles. “Aye, Roose is the more cautious of the two that is why he has gone to speak with his master at arms, whilst Ramsay, the bastard lacks patience no doubt he is cooking up some scheme now. But where is the girl? I would have thought they would be parading her around now.”

His wife looks solemn. “They did not want her to come to view just yet. These are our men my love, Roose does not trust us completely yes, Durin bent the knee but the man would have noticed how Roddy was not here or at Moat Cailin. Soon enough he will ask and when he does we must have an answer for him.”

Willam sighs. “Aye I know that my love, but what that answer will be I know not. Gods alone knows where Roddy is at the moment, he is not at the wall I know that much. But apart from that gods alone know. I just hope that we manage to cause enough dissent between father and son that our girls do not get pulled into this.”

At this his wife grips his hand hard. “Yes, please my love avoid that if you can. I do not think I could stand to know that Bethany or Robyn were slaves to those two! And once we have gotten Romhilda away from their clutches we shall have all the cards we need to begin.”

Willam nods. “Of course my love. That reminds me though, did your father say he had had word from your brother? And if so did he say how long he would be?”

Barbrey shakes her head. “No he did not say my love. But I know they will be here soon enough. And Roose will not do anything when he learns that we have his daughter, for she is my family as well.”

Willam nods and is about to speak when Maester Derret the apprentice maester for Barrowton coughs and hands him a letter. He reads it and feels his heart beat quicken. He looks at the maester and asks. “You did not show this to Balthasar?” the man shakes his head. “Good you may go.”

His wife looks at him then and asks. “What is it my love? Is it a raven from Roddy?”

“Yes my love. It seems our boy was successful in getting Jon from the Wall. The wildlings were defeated and now it seems they are at Last Hearth where Mors Umber and Whorsebane have committed their forces. They will march on Deepwood Motte before the moon’s end. And it appears Alys Karstark is there as well.” Willam says quickly, seeing Bolton begin to turn round.

His wife notices as well for she says softly. “That is very good news my love. So we can begin part two of the plan.”

Willam puts the letter in his pocket, and says. “Indeed it is my love, indeed it is. Let us hope the gods continue to smile on us as they have been.” He grips his wife’s hand then and nods at Roose Bolton, and thinks of all that is to come, and in the corner of his mind there is a sadness that an innocent little girl will have to die soon.


	14. Maiden In The Vale

**3 rd  Month of 300 A.C. The Eyrie**

**Alayne Stone**

The journey to the Vale had been long and arduous. After Joffrey’s wedding and death, she had fled with Ser Dontos to a ship on the dock, where Petyr Baelish, her father had killed Ser Dontos and then taken her aboard the ship and said that they were to go to the Vale and away from King’s Landing. Throughout the journey Sansa had been sick just as her father had been when he had taken them by ship to the Vale once long ago. Petyr had been there for her though, whispering soothing words and saying everything would be alright. Along the way something had happened and Sansa had died and Petyr Baelish’s daughter Alayne had been born. During the journey she had recited all Petyr had told her about Alayne, and so she had become Alayne, and had assumed all she could for the girl that would be her way out of the hell that had become her life.

Upon arriving at the Vale, they had stopped at the Fingers and it was there that Sansa had become Alayne, her hair had gone from auburn to brown and from being the highest of nobility to a lowly bastard whose father at that point was soon to be married to Sansa Stark’s aunt Lysa Arryn. That marriage had occurred not in the Eyrie as her father had wanted, but in her own father’s keep. And gods had Lysa Arryn been loud she had screamed and screamed with pleasure until there had been no more screaming. From there they had travelled to the Eyrie and another damned ship journey where Alayne had struggled to control her stomach. As her father had gone to deal with something with the ship’s captain Sansa’s aunt had come to tell her that she knew the truth and that a marriage to Lysa’s own son Robert would happen. Alayne had nearly wretched from the news, she remembered Sansa Stark’s cousin as being a sickly little brat. And she did not look forward to that.

Thankfully such a match had never come to fruition for Lady Lysa was no longer alive. She had tried to throw Alayne out of the moon door, and Alayne’s father had come to the rescue just as he had in King’s Landing and saved Alayne from the frightful fall. After soothing Lysa he had then turned his back and the mad singer Marillon had thrown Lysa from the moon door to her death. This had caused all kinds of trouble for them as the lords of the Vale had come calling to hear what had happened from both Alayne and her father, and after telling them account of what had happened, the singer Marillon had plummeted to his death much the same way Lady Lysa had.

Now she had to meet with her father to speak of the happenings in the Vale and in the wider kingdom. These were meetings she often dreaded and looked forward to in equal measure and today she was wondering what her father would bring up as many things had occurred since last they had met. Her father was sat in his solar as he often was and there were letters spread out across his table, but he stopped working when she walked in and said. “Ah Alayne sweetling do sit down do sit down.”

Alayne sits down opposite her father and looking at the letters before him asks. “Has there been any further word from the Gates of the Moon father?”

Her father smiles. “Yes there has been my sweetling. It seems the Lords Declarant have decided that no supplies will get through their blockade unless I meet their demands and give up the Lord Protectorship.”

Alayne feels her heart begin beating quicker in her chest. “You are not going to do that are you father? After all if you do that then Robert will not be safe.”

“No of course not. You need not worry sweetling. Apart from Bronze Yohn Royce, the rest are just blowing hot air. Gilwood Hunter is not going to commit any sort of action towards us, as his brothers are aiming to remove him from power, just as he did to their father. Anya Waynwood does not have the coin to sustain such action against us. Her debts are growing, and a simple offer to her to buy up her debts on our part would earn us her loyalty and of course make it far easier for the betrothal with Harry the heir to be made.” Her father says.

Alayne nods and then asks. “But why would this allow for a betrothal to be made father? Harry is the heir to the Vale and I am just a bastard, no one would allow for such a match to be made with any common sense.”

Her father chuckles. “Ah Alayne sweetling, when it comes to money and debt, most people do not have an ounce of common sense. Lady Waynwood will be so relieved that we have taken her money troubles away from her she will agree to what we ask so that she can remain in our good books.”

“What of Lords Redfort, Belmore and Templeton. Surely they are going to remain strongly behind Lord Royce and not do anything to go against him?” Alayne asks.

“Belmore can be bought off with gold. He is constantly in need of it. As for Templeton, well is kin to you sweetling. One of your great grandfather’s sisters married a Royce who had a daughter who married a Templeton and Ser Symond Templeton is their so. This does mean that when we reveal who you truly are, he will be honour bound to serve you. Family ties often negate political grievances. And the Templetons are always about family. As for Lord Horton Redfort, yes it is true he will remain steadfastly behind Bronze Yohn, but he is an old man who is not in the best of health and his sons are ambitious. That ambition will be how we keep them away from us and Sweetrobin.” Her father says.

“Will the Corbrays remain loyal now as well father? Now that Lord Lyonel has married the merchant’s daughter? There is no need for Lyn to continue his charade.” Alayne says.

“Lyonel will do as I ask of him yes. As for Lyn, that one is a loose arrow, he will hover from one place to another doing as he thinks best for Lyn. For the time being he is loyal to me, the more debt he places himself in to me the more power I hold over him, but the more he comes to realise that the more he will look for other ways in which to break free.” Her father responds.

 

Alayne nods and then asks. “And what of Harry father? When will I meet him? Winter is soon to be here, and if we do not do something quickly then the chance to marry and retake Winterfell will disappear.”

Her father is silent a moment. “There has been a slight interruption with our plans sweetling. Word has come from King’s Landing that Tyrion Lannister survived his trial and is now coming to the Vale to look for you. It appears Tywin Lannister has gotten wind of where you might be.”

Immediately Alayne feels her heart begin to beat faster. “How do they know where to find us father? I thought no one would know? You said no one would know.”

Her father stands then and comes to kneel in front of her, he takes her hands and says soothingly. “Worry not sweetling. Tywin Lannister believes you are here because your aunt ruled as Lady of the Vale and because your uncle Jon Arryn still had people who would have wanted you safe. He does not know for certain that you are here, nor will he. Tyrion Lannister will never reach the Vale let alone the Eyrie.”

“How? How can you be so sure father? He is a Lannister, they always get what they want.” Alayne whimpers.

“Because the man’s father and sister still want him dead. There are people out even now following Tyrion Lannister looking to kill him at the first opportunity that presents itself. He will not make it to the Vale because neither his father nor his sister want him to. Furthermore, even if they fail, I have men ready to attack him. The very men going to aid him are mine own. He will never see you again sweetling I promise.” Her father soothes, kissing her cheeks then before standing up.

“And once he is dead, I am free to marry Harry, and can take the north back from the Boltons?” Alayne asks tentatively.

“Yes sweetling. None will be able to refuse you, the living daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully. The lords will rally to your side and we shall show the Boltons what it means to cross you. The knights of the Vale will ride with you as well. And with your new husband in tow, you will retake the north.” Her father responds smiling a smile that does not reach his eyes.

Alayne thinks for a moment and then says. “I know of a way myself and Harry could meet without raising too much suspicion.” She pauses and her father looks at her expectantly. “A tourney. Harry has recently been knighted has he not? Well why not give him a chance to prove his skills to the Lords of the Vale. And furthermore, Sweetrobin has been wanting to have his own personal guard to rival King Tommem. This tournament could be the best chance to get knights and lords to compete for the places in the tourney. It would be a good way to ensure their loyalty.”

Silence and then her father says. “A clever idea my sweetling. Think through the details of the tourney and then we shall put it into action. Meanwhile I want to know what you have been able to gauge from Ser Shadrich the mad mouse.”

Alayne shivers at the thought of the mad mouse. “He is a strange man father. Truly I do not like him, there is something about him that does not feel right. None of his smiles reach his eyes, and none of his jokes are remotely funny. There is something dark about him, and he hungers after gold for more than one reason.”

Her father nods. “Aye, he hungers after gold like Lyn Corbray does. I have reason to believe he might well be working for Royce. Though he would like to pretend he is all about honour, Yohn Royce has not survived as Lord of Runestone all these years by being honourable. He would not be above using a man like Shadrich to learn about our weaknesses. Has your friend Randa said anything about the man?”

Alayne frowns at the thought of Randa, who had started sleeping with the man to find out more about him. Her friend had talked a lot about the man’s man parts but apart from that nothing really stood out apart from. “She told me that he often talks in his sleep. It seems he keeps talking about a spider or something of the sort. And how he will be given dragons for doing what this thing wants him to do. She does not know what to make of it, nor do I truth be told father.”

Her father is silent a moment and then asks. “Who was called the spider in King’s Landing sweetling?”

And then it hits her. “Varys? You think Varys knows I am here?”

“I would not put it past him to guess. He has men and people everywhere. His little spies are called mice after all. I do believe it is time we spoke with Ser Shadrich and found out what he wants.” Her father responds.

“Will you kill him father?” Alayne asks.

Her father looks at her and the look in his eyes scares her. “If he does comply not I will give him a fate worse than death.”


	15. Wandering Lion

**Third month of 300 A.C. Somewhere in the Riverlands**

**Tyrion Lannister**

Since his father had told him that he was a free man, Tyrion had not known to do what to do with himself. He had spent time with Prince Oberyn drinking and whoring, and generally making a nuisance of himself. If he was being truthful he did not truly want to leave King’s Landing, not just yet. There was so much more for him to do, for him to find out, he wanted to find enough evidence to be able to make the Tyrells sweat, and yet his father wanted him gone from the city. Gods he felt so lonely, he did not even have Shae to comfort him, he had not seen the whore since the day she had betrayed him at his trial. The memory of which still stung, gods was he such a pathetic little man that a whore’s betrayal actually hurt now?

Eventually after one particularly alcohol filled night, he had decided that he would try and get his wife back. He needed to get answers from her, and he was not going to get them sat in some brothel in King’s Landing drinking and fucking his problems away. And so he had gotten up, swayed somewhat, found Bronn and then they had set off together for where his father’s men were waiting for them. Ser Addam Marbrand was to lead the group meant to escort him to the border of the Vale and so they had ridden off, with Tyrion fighting off alcohol sickness as well as a hangover, until they had come to the Inn of the Kneeling Man where Tyrion had ordered them to stop for the night. He needed a drink and he needed to think. He could not bloody well just charge into the Vale not now.

And so here they were sat in the Inn, drinking some broth the Riverlanders considered to be ale, and Tyrion was musing aloud what to do. “I mean it is not as if I can just go charging into the Vale and demand they give me my wife back. If Littlefinger has half the sense the gods gave a goat he would hide the fact that she is a Stark.”

“But why would he keep her hidden in the Vale?” Bronn asks. “I thought the Vale was all for the Starks?”

“Oh they were. But the Starks are all dead now, and winter is coming. They are looking to keep their heads on their necks. And regardless the lords in the Vale would wonder why Baelish has Eddard Stark’s last surviving child. Such things cannot be easily explained away. And besides, my father has his own sources in the Vale.” Tyrion responds taking a deep gulp of ale.

“Does your father even truly know that the Stark girl is in the Vale? If this Lord Baelish is as clever as you seem to think he is, why would he not have taken her to a place where she would be guaranteed to get support? Why not take her to the north where her last name would rally the north almost at once, and get half the lords craving to marry her or marry her to their heirs.” Bronn responds.

“A very astute observation Bronn. I did not know you could do astute.” Tyrion japes.

The man merely shrugs. “You learn a lot when you serve in the company of high lords. And it helps I have a brain. More of a brain than half of these idiots following us.”

Tyrion takes a deep sip of ale and grimaces slightly. “Can’t argue with that. But to answer your question. Littlefinger would have taken her to the Vale because he has more contacts and pull there. He has a keep in the fingers I believe, and as such has many contacts in Gulltown from his time there. In short he has people in the Vale willing to help him plot and plan. Whereas the north is a veritable war zone right now and no one knows the name Petyr Baelish.”

“So essentially, the man took her to the Vale to stroke his ego?” Bronn asks, taking a deep gulp of ale.

“Yes essentially.” Tyrion responds.

“What a cock.” His friend says.

Tyrion bursts out laughing causing near half the inn to look at him. He wipes his mouth and says. “Aye, a cock he is indeed. But he is a smart one. He knows in the Vale he can have time to ferment some plan or the other, and then try and push forward with it. And Sansa is but a young lady, aye she is smart, but is she smart enough to deal with Baelish? I do not know.”

“Well you are a big thorn in his plans whatever they might be. So long as you are alive, he can’t marry her off to anyone. Or even marry her himself if he so desires.” Bronn surmises.

Tyrion once more is surprised by just how smart his friend is but this time does not comment on it. Instead saying. “Aye, it seems I am a burden to everyone nowadays. I am surprised that not a single one of those men back there with us, tried to kill me. No doubt they will try when we get close to the Vale.”

“I think it has more to do with the fact that that Addam Marbrand was glowering at them all the whole way here. Anytime someone tried to do something out of line he’d glower at them and they’d go cowering back to their places. The minute he goes, is the minute we are finished.” Bronn responds.

“We is it now? I thought you were done with me when Ser Gregor Clegane could have brought you to your death.” Tyrion snaps slightly.

The man holds out his hands. “Hey, I like living. I was not going to give my life for yours even if you offered me the crown against the mountain. But he is dead now and you are free. Besides I am here now, and this time I expect you to pay in full what you owe me.”

Tyrion raises his cup and says. “A Lannister always pays their debts.”

He drinks and then Bronn asks. “So if you find your wife what do you intend to do?”

Tyrion takes another deep sip of ale and then speaks “I do not know. Truly I do not. I would take her back to Winterfell, but it is a ruin unless Bolton has begun rebuilding it. And anyway my father named Ramsay Bolton Lord of Winterfell, so there is that issue to deal with as well. It truly feels as if my father has stabbed me in the back with this issue. He wants me to find my wife, and prove I can be his heir, but then he does not give me the tools to do so.”

Bronn points behind him. “He gave you an escort, a sizeable one as it were to try and achieve your goal. After all it’s not like he’s leaving you completely dry.”

Tyrion sighs. “Aye, but he is not exactly helping me is he? I mean I cannot go into the Vale with this escort and expect for the lords of the Vale let alone my own wife to be willing to help me. More than likely they would try to kill us all.”

His companion merely nods, takes another sip of his own ale and then asks. “But say you are successful and you get your wife back then what? You have just said you have nowhere else to go what would you do?”

“I…I… would offer Sansa the chance to have our marriage dissolved. That is what I would do.” Tyrion says after some deep thought.

Bronn whistles. “Truly? I thought you would keep her tied to you. She gives you Winterfell and she herself is a beauty. You would be powerful and have a nice hot wife to fuck.”

Tyrion clenches his cup in anger at his friend’s words, he does not say something for several moments trying to give himself the time to calm down and when he is, he finally says. “Sansa is not a whore. She is a person, and she has suffered enough. She deserves a chance at happiness, and she deserves a chance to find it on her own. I will not force her to do anything she does not want to.”

“And what has brought about this sudden change of heart? I thought you wanted her and Winterfell? And I thought you wanted to impress your father?” Bronn asks.

“I do…I did, I don’t know,” Tyrion replies tiredly. “But I do know that trying to impress my father will never get me anywhere other than dead. He has tried to kill me many times now, and I am tired of it. I want to live free without anything to do with him and his damned legacy.”

His friend looks at him a long moment then and says. “Then do what you want. You owe him nothing, you don’t owe any of them anything. Not your father, not your brother and certainly not your sister. Whatever you do, do it because you want to do it.”

Wise advice, and just as Tyrion is about to respond the door to the inn opens and he feels a cold blast of wind enter. He turns round and looks at the new entrants, one is a tall hulking blast of a woman, and the other, and by the gods is that his squire? Is that Pod? He looks at Bronn and indicates the door.

Bronn looks quickly and then nods. “Aye that’s Pod.”

“What the devils is he doing with that hulking woman?” Tyrion whispers.

“That woman? Oh that’s Brienne of Tarth. You wouldn’t know about her because of your time in the black cells but she brought Ser Jaime back to King’s Landing. And word has it she was tasked by him or by Catelyn Stark to find the Stark girls and bring them back to safety.” Bronn responds.

“A fool’s errand.” Tyrion snorts.

His friend looks at him then. “Not if they join use. We know where the girl is, or at least one of them. We could get something out of this my lord.”

Tyrion considers this and then asks. “How? They’d think I want her for myself.”

“Well Pod’s clearly just seen us. He’s coming this way.” Bronn responds.

Tyrion sighs and then looks up to see his former squire looking at him. “Yes Pod? How can I help you?”

“I…I…I…I was wondering if I and Lady Brienne could join you.” Pod stammers.

“And why would you want to do that Pod? Have you not had enough of me?” Tyrion asks.

“It…it.it would be easier than finding our own table my lord.” Pod stammers in response

Tyrion sighs. “Very well, you may join us.” Once the lad has sat down he asks. “Now what are you doing with the Lady Brienne?”

“I…I…I.. I am helping her find the Ladies Sansa and Arya my lord. She swore a vow to Lady Catelyn that she would find them and bring them to safety. And I wish to help her.” Pod answers.

“A how very noble of you. And are you being more of a help or a nuisance to Lady Brienne?” Tyrion asks.

“As of now he is being a bit of both my lord.” A deep voice replies, Tyrion looks up to find himself staring at a big giant of a woman.

“The Lady Brienne I presume?” Tyrion asks.

“Yes my lord. And I take it you are Lord Tyrion Lannister? Brother to Ser Jaime.” The woman responds.

“Ser Jaime is it? Not the Kingslayer?” Tyrion asks ignoring her question.

“Ser Jaime is a good and honourable knight.” The lady replies.

Tyrion snorts. “I hear you are looking for the Stark girls. Well you are in luck because so are we.”

The lady’s eyes narrow and she asks guardedly. “And do you know where they are?”

Tyrion nods. “Lady Sansa is in the Vale and Lady Arya….” He pauses as the door opens and he hears Bronn mutter a curse, turning round to see what caused his friend to curse, he sees a man with a burned face standing in the doorway and a boy with grey eyes with him. The eyes are familiar somehow.


	16. Deepwood Motte

**4 th Month of 300 A.C. outside Deepwood Motte**

**King Jon II Stark**

The fortress of House Glover loomed large before them, the march to the Motte had been long and hard, snow had begun to fall as they had marched from Castle Black, and the way to Last Hearth had been long and winding. At Last Hearth Jon and his men had been greeted by Dorren Umber, Lord Umber’s second son and heir and his uncles Mors and Hothar Umber, all of whom had sworn fealty to him, and had promised him some two thousand men. There had been a further complication before they could march from Last Hearth, and that was Alys Karstark, the girl had fled from Karhold to avoid a forced marriage to her cousin and as such Jon had given her his protection and ensured she would be safe in Last Hearth whilst they fought to free the north.

From Last Hearth they had marched towards Deepwood Motte and the clans Forrester, Bole, Branch and Wood had joined him as they had marched. Lord Rodrik Forrester a brave man and a sold fighter had volunteered to lead the attack on the northern gate, in order to provide a distraction for Jon and his men to march on the right side of the Motte through the Wolfswood and to lie in wait for the Ironborn as they fled from the south gate. All the lords he had spoken to from Roddy, Theo Wull and Mors Umber were convinced that the Ironborn would flee via the south gate in an attempt to get to their ships. And that was something Jon would not let them do, they would not be leaving the north alive.

As it was right now, Jon was hearing the sounds of a fight, Rodrik Forrester and the clans of Bole, Branch and Wood as well as some Glover men were causing all kinds of chaos for the Ironborn at the north gate, and Jon was certain that soon enough that the gate would fall. He kept his horse riding at a steady pace, the snow was falling quite rapidly now, but still there would be a struggle somewhat. They rode in silence until they came to where the Ironborn banners flew on the southern gate, Jon felt anger stir inside of him at that thought. Krakens flying where once the mailed fist of House Glover flew? He would not stand for that. Not at all, it was time for this to end. As he raised his hand for his men to stop they waited and Jon could feel his breathing slowly begin to steady, and when the gate opened, he roared a command he and his men charged, and Jon swore for Robb.

The battle begins as all battles do, chaos and frenzy. The snow makes it hard to truly see far in front of himself, but he swings Longclaw and hears a crunch as the sword connects with some squid or the other, and he roars and then pushes on. By his side he knows Ghost is ripping through any Ironborn that Jon misses, gods the rush is so thrilling that Jon wonders how Robb did not go mad from it. The feeling of his sword cutting through the squids, the invaders feel like mush as his sword connects with their skin. Longclaw is red from hilt to point, but by the gods there are so many of these damned squids that it only gets redder.

They are pushing the squids back into Deepwood Motte, his men are calling out for blood now. He looks to his right and sees Roddy cutting through one man then another, laughing with joy, Mors Umber is knocking Ironborn aside with his longsword as if they are nothing more than ants. Dorren Umber, his axe in one hand is removing Ironborn heads left, right and centre. Gods he feels so alive, so very alive. They are now in Deepwood Motte, and Jon knows that soon enough they will be entering the square, where the Ironborn will be trapped with nowhere to go. He smiles then and wills Ghost to go charging through. His direwolf tears through one man then another man and then another man. And gods he can taste the blood on his tongue, this connection he has with Ghost only serves to fuel his drive for blood.

The squids put up a good fight he will give them that, and though they must know they are beaten they continue fighting. One or two of them manage to dent his armour opening up fresh wounds, and some manage to cause old wounds to start bleeding but none of them really, truly manage to do any lasting damage to him whilst he is fighting. Longclaw is singing as he cuts through the air and brings another squid to the ground in death. Revenge feels good, so very good, revenge for the Glovers, for Bran and Rickon, for Benfred Tallhart and for all those who lost their lives to the squids. He snarls then and he knows Ghost is feeling his anger, for he tastes salt in his mouth.

The Ironborn are broken, most of if not all now lie dead on the ground. Blood mixing with the snow to create some sort of red and white concoction. Those Ironborn remaining have thrown down their weapons and surrendered. Though he still feels the urge to kill, he retains some of what his father taught him and refrains from killing those who have surrendered just. He orders them put into chains and thrown into cells, his men get to work on that whilst also singing his praises. He raises his sword and acknowledges their praise, and then sheaths his sword and once Satin has taken the reins of his horse he dismounts and walks with Ghost to the Great Hall where he receives Lady Sybelle Glover’s praises and thanks.  He nods and says. “Your husband and goodbrother were loyal lords and allies to my brother King Robb. It is only fair that we pay you back in kind. Never again will the Ironborn infest your lands. Your children are well?”

“Yes they are Your Grace. Gawen and Erena are both well. Thank you Your Grace, for removing the squids from my home.” Sybelle Glover says.

Jon takes the woman’s hand then and says. “My lady, you do not need to thank me. Your family has always been loyal to mine, I was doing what any King would do. Now we must attend to some matters that are quite pressing. If you wish to hear them I would not object, but if you wish to spend some time with your children then I would also not object.”

The lady is silent a moment and then says. “I will spend some time with Gawen and Erena Your Grace. You may use the hall for your business. There is one thing I wished to know, where is my husband? Is he safe?”

Jon squeezes the woman’s hand reassuringly and says. “Robett is safe and well my lady. He is doing some work for me in White Harbour.” The lady nods and then walks off.

His armour weighs still heavily on his shoulders but he walks with it on towards the seat of the Glovers and sits down. His lords and men sit down on the benches and chairs in the hall, the cheering begins anew then until Jon raises his hand to quieten it. Ghost is sat at the foot of the throne asleep more than likely, resting from the battle, Jon asks for a glass of wine, and when Satin gives it to him he takes it and drinks deep. Once that is done he speaks. “My lords and my men, we have done well today. We have taken the Motte back and so hurt the Ironborn. There is still much that must be done, Torrhen’s Square remains under the Ironborn control and there is a traitor soon to be in Winterfell, but before we can move to deal with these problems there is the issue of what to do with those who survived. Sam how many men were captured?”

His friend who had been tending to the wounded with Gilly, walks forward then and nervously speaks. “Four Your Grace. Four Ironborn were captured, Asha Greyjoy being the most notable prisoner. All the rest are dead as per your orders.” His friend steps back and his men give a loud cheer at that.

Jon considers this a moment and then says. “These Ironborn took a northern castle and made good northmen suffer for it. I will not allow such a thing to go unpunished. Roddy, I want you to see to the three Ironborn prisoners who are not Asha Greyjoy.”

“What do you wish for me to do to them Your Grace?” his friend asks.

“What you do best my friend. Pull their entrails from their bodies and put them on the weirwoods trees. Ensure Lady Asha watches whilst you do this, let her know what happens to those who cross the north.” Jon responds.

His friend nods his eyes full of glee and anticipation. “Of course Your Grace.” His friend bows and then walks toward the end of the hall.

Jon speaks then. “Now that that has been dealt with, I must thank you all for fighting bravely today. It has been a long and hard day, but you all fought nobly and like true northmen. We will celebrate accordingly, special mention must go to Rodrik Forrester who lead the attack on the northern gate that allowed for us to win this battle.” A cheer goes up and men push Rodrik forward clapping him on the back. “Rodrik, have as much wine as you like tonight. And sleep easy.” Another cheer goes up before Jon looks at Satin who has come forward. “Ah yes Satin what is it you wished to say?”

“Your Grace, Lady Maege Mormont wishes to speak to you.” His squire says.

A murmur goes up around the hall then and Jon says. “Well bring her in Satin. Let us hear what the good lady has to say.”

The doors open and Lady Maege Mormont, a big bear of a woman walks in accompanied by her daughters whom Jon recognises as Alysane, Lyra and Jorelle Mormont follow her in. They bow before him and he tells them rise. Lady Maege gets down on one knee along with her daughters speaks then. “Your Grace, we have come as many Mormonts have before us, to swear our fealty to you King Jon Stark, second of your name the King in the North and the King of Winter. We promise to fight beside you in sickness and in health, and through the winter of the night. We will stand beside you until all our enemies are gone and dead. We will come when you ask, and we will fight when you ask. We are yours from now until our last breath.”

“Thank you my lady. Now please rise. I cannot have my most faithful lady on her knee.” Jon says.

Lady Maege rises as do her daughters, and then after a moment’s silence she says. “Thank you Your Grace. You will be glad to know that the Ironborn longships that were docked nearby have been destroyed. There will be no chance for them escaping at all now.”

“I thank you for that my lady.” Jon responds.

“There was also one more bit of news that I wished to share with you Your Grace as I am not sure whether you would have known. Stannis Baratheon is at the Wall. He has some five thousand men with him and has sent out ravens to all the lords of the north demanding loyalty and men to help beat Roose Bolton.” Lady Maege says.

There is a lot of murmuring then and Theo Wull says. “The fool. These southerners don’t know a thing about us.”

Lady Maege nods. “Of course they do not. That is why we did not reply at first, but then my dear daughter came up with the perfect response. We Mormonts have always been Stark men and women. We will continue to be so until the world ends. We know no king but the King in the North, and that king is a Stark. The King, the only king I will ever serve and my family will ever serve sits before me.”

A roar follows that and Jon hears his men shout. “THE KING IN THE NORTH!” and he feels his chest swell with pride.


	17. Smuggler

**5 th Month of 300 A.C. Wolf’s Den**

**Ser Davos Seaworth**

The Wolf’s Den was a grim place, it would be a grim place to die as well, for that was what Davos was convinced was going to happen to him. He had been here for nearly a moon and since that day in the great hall of New Castle no one apart from the jailer had been to see him. He had failed his king, he had failed King Stannis and this was his punishment from the gods, he had said nothing when the red witch had burnt the sept on Dragonstone and his sons had perished on the Blackwater because of it, he had said nothing when the witch had burnt the Florent and now he was to die as well. Gods he had been so optimistic when they had set sail from Dragonstone for the north, yes the blackwater had inflicted a heavy defeat on them, but they still had five thousand men and they were all willing to continue. The raven had come asking for aid and so they had set sail. Except when they had gotten to the Wall the Wildlings had been dealt with, their host scattered and their king and commanders killed. The Mountain Clans had come and aided them along with survivors from the sack of Winterfell. And another blow had come when they learnt the bastard, Jon Snow was not there at the wall, no one knew where he had gone and he was not there. And that had put a nail in the king trying to use a Stark to claim the north, and so Davos had been sent here to White Harbour to try and talk to Wyman Manderly and convince him of the truth of Stannis’s cause.

He had failed evidently, Davos had arrived in White Harbour to find Wyman Manderly hosting Freys in his hall. The Freys the people behind that dreaded wedding, and Wyman Manderly was eating and feasting with them! He could not believe it, maybe Lord Wyman was as big a coward as everyone thought him to be, eating and drinking with his son’s murderers and allowing his granddaughters to be betrothed to such filth. He had said as much in the great hall and had been silenced for it, when Jared, or was it Rhaegar Frey had cast obscenities about Robb Stark, Davos had felt his anger come to the fore then, and he had accused the Freys of lying, and that was what had gotten him thrown into this cell. No on apart from his gaolers came to see him, either to talk or to mock him, but still there was no word from the outside world and Davos felt as though he was slipping into madness. Ser Bartimus’s claims of the flayed man killing some red demon king were not helping him either.

The opening of his cell door shook him from his slumber, and he was surprised to see Ser Bartimus standing there not with an axe in hand but rather with a smile on his face. “The merman wants to see you smuggler.”

Davos struggled to his feet. “What? Why?”

“No questions just get up and come with me.” Ser Bartimus replied.

Surprised Davos stood up then and slowly followed the chief gaoler of the Wolf’s Den out of his cell and down some steps until he came to a doorway. “What am I supposed to do now?” he asks Ser Bartimus.

The old knight merely looks at him and says. “Go through the door and see smuggler.”

Before Davos can ask any more questions the knight is gone, and so sighing Davos pushes the door and walks through. He is surprised to find Lord Wyman Manderly sat on a chair that looks as though it is sagging under his weight, and a man who has a mailed fist on his tunic. “Ah Ser Davos thank you for coming please take a seat.” The Lord of White Harbour says gesturing to the seat in front of him.

Davos looks at the seat and then at the Lord of White Harbour and asks. “What do you want from me my lord? I had thought you wanted nothing to do with me?”

The Lord of White Harbour sighs. “I can see you mistrust me, I cannot blame you. The way I treated you when you arrived was most appalling and most distasteful but it had to be done. The Freys had to be convinced that I was their man.”

“They killed your son and you were willing to convince them of something?” Davos asks incredulously.

“Oh I wanted them dead alright, but there are times when calmness and feigned ignorance can do one a world of good, good Ser. Now please take a seat.” The lord of White Harbour says.

Davos remains standing there. “Why should I trust you? You are eating and drinking with Freys. The people who planned and allowed the Red Wedding to happen, who killed your king and your son. How do I know I can trust you?”

“Because you are supposed to be dead smuggler.” The man with the mailed fist on his tunic says gruffly.

“Dead?” Davos asks confused.

The Lord of White Harbour sighs. “Yes you are supposed to be dead. That was why you were thrown into a cell and kept there for so long Ser Davos. In order to get my son back, I had to show my loyalty to the Iron Throne that is why Rhaegar and Jared Frey are here. When you came I made a big show of executing you. Of course you are not dead, but the Freys are too stupid to ask to see you in the Wolf’s Den. A man, a rather common looking man took your place, and his face was tarred to make the features unrecognisable. To make it all look quite accurate, an onion was stuffed in his mouth.”

“But why? Why go to all this trouble? Why not simply execute me?” Davos asks.

“Because you can still be of use Ser.” The Lord of White Harbour says.

“What sort of service would a man who is willing to work with the people who murdered his son have for me?” Davos asks.

The Lord of White Harbour sighs. “I admit that does not look like the actions of a grieving father, but the Lannisters still held my son and heir Wylis hostage when you came. That is what all the noise is about, my boy has been returned to me. Our guests believe that I have gone to the privy, my famously weak bladder will keep them away from suspicion for now but we must speak and we must speak quickly.”

“Then speak my lord.” Davos says.

“You came here as an envoy for King Stannis Baratheon. The man was a fool to send you, you never stood a chance of rallying men to his banner not whilst that fire witch is at his side. But that is immaterial now, Stannis Baratheon is dead.” the lord of White Harbour says.

It takes Davos a moment to fully process what the man has just said. And when it does sink in everything inside him is rebelling against that notion. “Dead? What do you mean he is dead?”

“He marched from Castle Black straight for Winterfell. It was there he faced a host led by Ramsay Bolton. The host was beaten and he was slain. Your king is dead Ser Davos.” Lord Wyman replies.

Something inside Davos breaks, but another part of him is sceptical. “I….I do not believe you, where is your proof of this?”

“Galbart the letter.” Lord Wyman says. And the man with the mailed fist on his tunic hands Davos a letter which as pink wax on it, and as he opens it and reads slowly through the letter his heart sinks and he feels his heart begin to hammer as thoughts of his son and his wife and their two youngest sons enter his mind.

“Were there any survivors?” he asks trying to keep his voice calm but shaking inside.

Lord Wyman speaks then. “Yes there were a few, and we know your son was one of them. They were taken to Winterfell Ser.”

“What….what do you want me to do?” Davos asks.

“We want you to help us bring down the Boltons Ser.” Lord Wyman says.

“You want to bring down the Boltons?” Davos asks.

“Yes Ser, we do.” The man Davos now knows as Galbart Glover says. “The Boltons are traitors and scum. They will never rule the north, it will not happen. They have tried many times before and failed each and every time. And this time will be no different.”

“But how?” Davos asks confused. “There are no more Starks?”

At this Lord Wyman smiles. “Ah, I think on that note you are wrong. Think on what I have said Ser Davos. Your king is not, but your king is not my king.”

Davos thinks on this, at first not understanding it, and then comprehension dawns on him, the letter King Stannis got from Lyanna Mormont, the things he was always told about the north and its relation with the Starks, and he remembers the bastard. “Jon Snow.” He says softly.

The Lord of White Harbour’s smile grows bigger then. “King Jon Stark, the true ruler of the north.”

“Why should I serve him?” Davos asks. “How could I serve him?”

“Jon Stark is not only my king Ser Davos. He is the only king who can bring justice to the Boltons, the Freys and the Lannisters. Stannis is dead, and with him the Baratheons will die as well, and yet the Lannisters and their allies remain alive. King Jon is not just my king, he is your king now as well. Unless you would rather side with the Lannisters.” The Lord of White Harbour responds.

“I would never serve the Lannisters, my lord. I am not a coward.” Davos says. “But how can I serve this king? I have nothing to give him.”

“Ah, but that is where you are wrong Ser Davos.” Lord Wyman responds. “You are a smuggler are you not?”

“I was once. But I do not see how that is relevant.” Davos replies.

“Oh it is very relevant Ser,” Galbart Glover replies. “How much do you know of the Sack of Winterfell?”

“Only that Theon Greyjoy and his Ironborn took the castle and then put it all to torch. Whilst also killing Brandon and Rickon Stark.” He replies.

“A lie, a lie told by the Boltons to make themselves look better. It was Ramsay Bolton who sacked Winterfell and Theon Greyjoy never killed Brandon and Rickon Stark. The two heads that were mounted on the spikes of Winterfell were the two heads of two miller’s boys. No Brandon and Rickon Stark are alive and well.” Lord Wyman replies.

Davos looks at the Lord of White Harbour then and asks. “How do you know this my lord? And how is it that the other lords of the north do not?”

“Because we have something they do not. We have Theon Greyjoy’s squire. A mute he cannot speak but he knows his letters and he recognises speech. Galbart get the boy will you?” Lord Wyman says.

The man of Deepwood Motte goes and brings a boy who would be as old as Allard would have been, he has the beginnings of a beard and some loose crops of hair on his head. The Lord of White Harbour looks at him and then says to Davos. “Wex was there when Ramsay Snow and his men sacked Winterfell, he hid in the godswood amongst the weirwoods and overheard three boys and a girl as well as a woman discussing where to go. Is that correct Wex?” the boy nods. “Two of the boys and the girl went off toward the wall with the lumbering stable boy.” The boy nods again. And then Lord Wyman says. “As for the other boy and the woman, they remained in the godswood for some time after as the woman planned where to go.”

Here the Lord of White Harbour pauses, and Davos asks. “Where did the woman and the boy go my lord?”

At this the Lord of White Harbour looks at the boy, and the boy takes a dagger from his belt and places it on the map in a place where sailors fear to go, and where there are cannibals and supposedly unicorns. He looks at Lord Wyman, and the man says. “Get Rickon Stark and his wolf from Skaagos Ser Davos, and I will make sure your son is safe and well protected.”


	18. Winter Fell

**6 th Month of 300 A.C. Winterfell**

**Lord Willam Dustin**

The rebuilding of Winterfell was coming along nicely, the outer walls were no longer a crumbling ruin, they were beginning to look as they had done the last time Willam had been here two years ago, strong and determined. His men and the men the Umbers had sent had been doing a fine job, using wood and stone from the nearby woods and from the Rills and Barrowton to rebuild the castle and its grounds to their former glory. His men had also learnt a thing or two from speaking to some of the Bolton men who were helping as well. That Ramsay Snow had sacked Winterfell after masquerading as his pet Reek, was for definite confirmed now, the bastard had a smug look about him as he pranced around Winterfell, a look that hid the anger Dustin knew resided inside of him. But that Winterfell’s burning was his doing, was something Willam knew for certain now, and he intended to make Bolton and his bastard pay for that. He still remembered the look of grief of King Robb’s face when word had come of Winterfell’s sacking as well as the death of Bran and Rickon Stark, and he knew he would have the bastard’s head soon enough.

The bastard himself seemed to be hiding the rage that he had shown quite clearly upon their arrival in Winterfell. The bastard’s fake Stark bride had died on the way to Winterfell, ambushed by bandits her guard killed she herself taken and killed as well. The bastard had fumed at that and had wanted, no demanded that his father give him leave to go and find these bandits and kill them himself. Roose, of course had in his cold and calculating manner refused, and the tension between the bastard and his father grew. Of course the girl was dead, but not by bandit hands, it had been unfortunate really, Willam’s men had tried to take her peacefully, but Bolton’s men were too damn stupid to realise what was happening and so the girl had been killed in the crossfire during the fighting. An unnecessary loss, but one that did make it somewhat easier for King Jon to come back and retake his throne. The girl’s face looked nothing like Arya Stark, Durin had confirmed, but Willam had kept that quiet. There was no need for anything else to be said.

Then there was the fact that Stannis Baratheon had marched south from the wall, something that had stirred tensions even further. Bolton had sent his bastard out to go scouting, and had called for a meeting of those lords still left in Winterfell. That included Willam, Whoresbane Umber, Wyman Manderly, Rodrik Ryswell Willam’s goodfather, and the treacherous Arnolf Karstark as well as the Freys who had come, Hosteen and Aenys. Willam despised the Freys, and did nothing to hide his contempt, soon they would be dead and their kin as well. Roose spoke first. “As you all know, Stannis Baratheon has marched south from the Wall. I do believe he intends to come to Winterfell first. The fool does not know the north proper and will get lost in the snows. But should he survive them, Ramsay shall be waiting for him, out there in the Wolfswood waiting to cut him off and kill him. He will be dealt with swiftly.”

“What of those he left at the Wall, his red whore and his queen and daughter?” Willam asks. “So long as they survive they will continue to be a problem for you my lord.”

“Stannis’s red woman will not be a threat, the moment her king is dead she shall fade into obscurity, and the chance to survive and live will be the one thing that will ensure that his queen and daughter are given over to Lord Bolton.” Aenys Frey said confidently.

“The Wall does not take part in the affairs of the realm my lord. In case you had forgotten and Bowen Marsh is as much a stickler for that rule as any. He will refute any threat for the false queen to come south, as they have been given guest right.” Willam replies.

“Then it is your duty as a true man of the north, to go north and get the false queen and her daughter yourself my lord.” Hosteen Frey counters. “Unless of course you have gotten soft in your old age and wish to have a traitor remain in the north?”

Willam says nothing for a moment and then says. “Should the lord of Winterfell ask me to go north I shall. Until that time we have other issues to deal with do we not my lord?”

Lord Bolton nods. “Indeed we do. First of all, how goes the rebuilding of Winterfell? My son grows impatient with its lack of resources and I too wish to know when we might well expect it to be completely habitable.”

“My men tell me that Winterfell should be completely habitable within the next moon or so my lord. They have made quick progress and with the snow not completely taking affect just yet, they should be complete with the great castle soon enough.” Willam replies confidently.

“Good. That is very good.” Lord Bolton replies. “You have done a very good job my lord. And I will remember that when the time comes. Now Lord Wyman, I believe you had a very interesting visitor before coming to Winterfell. Pray tell what happened to Ser Davos?”

Willam looks at Lord Wyman then wondering what lie the man will tell now. “I did indeed my lord. Ser Davos came asking me and my family to bend the knee to the traitor Stannis Baratheon. I did of course refuse him and tell him in no uncertain terms that we are and will always be the King’s people. He did not take this well and began blustering and threatening me and my kin and as such I had him imprisoned. And then summarily executed when the order came from King’s Landing. His head is adorned on a spike on the northern gate of White Harbour as a warning. Ser Rhaegar, and Jared should be able to agree with my account of what had happened if any here has any doubt.”

“I would ask them if they could remember anything beyond arriving at White Harbour. They seem to not recall anything beyond White Harbour’s castle and then coming to Winterfell. A most curious thing is it not my lord?” Lord Roose asks softly.

Without blinking an eye, the Lord of White Harbour says. “It is my lord. I do think that it must have been what happened to them on the way here. They suffered a great surprise when those bandits attacked them, it is no surprise that they suffered so.”

“Something more happened than just that Manderly. And I am sure you had a hand in it. My kin do not forget easily.” Hosteen Frey snarls.

“Clearly not Ser. But nor does the north. And there are many here who believe your father did wrong when he killed Robb Stark. They do not see that it needed to be done.” Lord Wyman replies curtly.

“Are you one of those people Manderly?” Hosteen snarls.

“Clearly he is not Frey, otherwise he would not be here now. None of us would be if we were.” Willam snaps.

Before Hosteen can respond, Arnolf Karstark speaks. “There is another issue that we have not discussed my lords. Jon Snow has crowned himself king and has taken Deepwood Motte. He claims to be Robb Stark’s true heir and has won the support of the mountain clans and the men of Houses Cerwyn and Tallhart. How will he deal with him? He is a son of Eddard Stark, and we do not have a Stark as you might have noticed.”

“For once you speak sense Arnolf.” Whoresbane japes. “But yes, what are we going to do?”

“Your brother Mors is with this boy is he not Hothar?” Roose asks his voice soft.

Whorsebane nods. “Aye he is. My brother always was a bit slow when it came to realising what benefitted the house the most. But I will not fight him, Umber does not fight Umber.”

Bolton smiles then and that action is enough to cause Willam to shiver slightly. “Oh I would not ask you to fight your brother Hothar. I would merely ask that you get in contact with him.”

“And do what exactly my lord?” Whoresbane asks.

“Find out what you can about their movements. They are at Deepwood Motte, but they will have to deal with Stannis Baratheon first and foremost. And if that is not the case they might well have to deal with the Ironborn at Torrhen’s Square. And by that time we can assemble enough men to challenge them.” Roose responds.

“What makes you think my brother will tell me his plans? He thinks me a turncoat for siding with you.” Hothar all but spits.

“Your nephew is still at the Twins. If your brother values your nephew’s life, he will tell you this. If not then the Greatjon will die.” Roose responds calmly.

Whoresbane tenses and then merely says. “Very well I shall write to him and see what it is they are planning.”

“There is also the fact that the will was signed by those who are now either prisoners or dead. It is invalid and as such the north has bent the knee to the king, there is nothing left of an independent north. The boy cannot claim legitimacy when his only source does not exist. He is nothing more than a deserter from the Night’s Watch who must be killed.” Arnolf Karstark boasts.

Willam looks at his goodfather and merely nods. His goodfather then speaks. “Another issue is also present my lords. Lady Arya is dead, that is a major issue now. With Jon Snow alive and fighting, even if his legitimacy is in question he has rallied support, and without our own Stark we do not have the same legitimacy that he does.”

“That will not be a problem my lords. Jon Snow is indeed a bastard as Arnolf has stated, he cannot claim legitimacy for he has none. But to ensure that we do not lose support, I have spoken to a contact in the south. Someone who wishes to ensure that we have enough strength and support to continue for many years to come. And that person has promised to provide us with what we need.” Lord Bolton replies.

“I had thought all the Starks were dead my lord? The boys are dead and the girls, well the girls would be better off dead.” Arnolf Karstark replies.

“And that is where you are wrong my lord of Karstark. There is one Stark left, and she was wed to the Imp. And now because of the Imp’s death, it is safe for her to return home. Sansa Stark shall be venturing forth from the Eyrie to come back to Winterfell, with help from Petyr Baelish.” Bolton responds.

Silence and then Willam asks. “And how do we know that Baelish is not playing us for fools? He is a Lannister man, the fact he has Sansa Stark could be part of Tywin Lannister’s plan to remove you from power. Has there been confirmation that Tyrion Lannister is dead?”

Roose takes out a letter from his pocket and hands it over to Willam. Willam reads it over quickly and sees Tywin Lannister as well as Cersei Lannister and the king’s signatures and then hands it back to Roose. “It seems to be in order. But then why is Tywin allowing this to happen?”

“Because, we are his best chance to hold the north. Without us the north will fall into chaos. And the man wants it under control as soon as possible. That is why Sansa Stark is coming north. That my lords will be our answer to Jon Snow.” Roose replies.

“When do they intend to arrive? And where?” Willam asks.

“They will be arriving at White Harbour in around a moon or so I believe. Lord Wyman I would advise that you have your son ready the port.” Roose responds.


	19. A Black Fish

**7 th Month of 300 A.C. Fisher Village**

**Ser Brynden Tully**

He despised being on the run, he was a knight not a craven. It was not in his blood to run, it was not in his blood to allow the enemy anything. And yet he had done so, he had allowed his nephew to raise the gate slightly before Riverrun was handed over to the Lannisters and he had swum out underneath it and fled through the stream and whilst his allies turned a blind eye to his disappearance he turned east. The Lannisters and that damned Frey might hold Riverrun now but they would not do so for long, Brynden knew that, he was determined to see it through, he had made a promise to Edmure and he would bloody well make sure he kept it. It had been very hard leaving his nephew behind, his nephew who had done so much to make Hoster proud, was now going to be heading towards Casterly Rock a prisoner, along with his wife, the Frey girl. That was something Brynden would not allow, no Tully would ever be a prisoner again, not whilst he still drew breath.

At first he was not sure where to go, after all the Brackens had their own role to play in this. They had bent their knees to the lions and were laying siege to Raventree Hall. It was essential that, that mummers farce play out, the traditional Blackwood-Bracken rivalry would help in ensuring Tywin Lannister and his son the Kingslayer were kept fooled for now.  That did mean though that Raventree Hall and Stone Hedge were off limits, and as such he had wandered the riverlands for a time, unsure of where to go, feeling as he had done during his youth, a rebel without a cause, his king was dead, his nephew a prisoner, and his niece, Little Cat, sweet little Cat either dead or a prisoner at the twins. A deep sense of loss had filled him at that thought and a rage had filled him, had he been the young man who had slain Daeron Blackfyre on the Stepstones he would have killed Freys when and where he saw them, but age and caution had made him wary and so he did nothing but pretend to be a lost man. And through that he learn their secrets and their worries.

He had met the Brotherhood Without Banners at Justman’s Village, a village named after the Justman kings.  A ragtag group without a leader after Beric Dondarrion had met his final death, they were struggling to continue on with his good work, and as such they were laying low waiting for something new to appear. Brynden had given them that chance, instead of openly declaring himself their leader, he had sent them out on various missions, determined to learn more about the state of the kingdoms in general before he acted. It was through Harwin that he learnt of the rising of the north, of his nephew’s brother coming to the fore and fighting for northern independence, that was good, it meant his nephew’s plan was coming together, soon enough the Lannisters would be out of the north. The news of Jon Stark had given him hope and the direction to order the Brotherhood to begin removing Freys from the Riverlands, they were killed as they rode, killed as when captured, no Frey was spared. He knew some such as Thoros the red priest did not approve of his orders, but he did not care, the Freys were not people they were savages who needed to be removed for the good of the seven kingdoms.

It was in the aftermath of one of these killing raids that word reached him of a group of wolves near Fisher’s village, named after the Fisher Kings of years gone by. At first, he thought the words spoke of the wolf pack that had been seen roaming the riverlands for the past year and a half, but no it seemed Roose Bolton’s little error in leaving men to defend the Ruby Ford was coming back to haunt him. Kyle Condon had some fifty men with him at the Fisher’s Village, and Brynden was more than delighted to see the grizzled old man, someone who had become a good friend during the war and during previous wars. It was with him that Brynden spoke with now. “How have you managed to avoid Lannister patrols and Frey scouts all this time Ser?” he asks.

Ser Kyle a man of an age with Brynden is an easy going fellow, but hard as nails as well. He smiles and says. “We split ourselves up into little parties like this one you see now, and we began riding around the Riverlands, doing what we could do end the Freys and Lannisters where we saw them.”

“So the hangings of High Heart? They were you?” Brynden asks.

“Not me specifically no. more than likely they were the work of the rose company. They be a lot of savages those roses. Northern roses with eastern flavour. Ronnel has been working with Jason Mallister I believe, working to bring about the end of the Freys at Seagard.” Condon says.

Brynden nods. “Aye, we heard word of the deaths of several Freys whilst we were in Justman’s village. It seems Bolton truly made an error when he left you both to guard the ford. What did he actually do during that battle?”

A grim look passes over Kyle’s face then. “Bolton? Bugger all. He stayed at the back like a coward and allowed good men to die. We took a fair few hits because of that. If he had used his strength instead of remaining behind we could have dealt a blow to the mountain and helped the king. I suppose it was part of his treachery though.”

Brynden nods grimly. “Aye, I suppose it was. The man kept it quiet, though I think we can say that it worked in his favour. He has gotten what he has always wanted without needing to shed too much blood.”

“Most definitely.” Condon replies. “You know the Kingslayer was in Harrenhal? After lady Catelyn freed him, he and the wench arrived in Harrenhal, and this was after the king had given out orders for his recapture. Bolton sat down had food and drink with the Kingslayer and then sent him on his merry way. No doubt he had already planned his treachery by then. The man has no honour and no pride to be a Northman only blind ambition.”

Brynden nods. “I remember the king always used to say that he thought Roose was more than likely to sell his own soul for a chance to get more power. And now he has it.”

“Not for long though.” Condon says smiling then. “There is a King of the North once more. A Stark will sit in Winterfell once again and the Boltons will be done for once and for all.”

The Blackfish smiles at the man and says. “Most definitely old friend. This king seems to have the same skill as his brother, but also would be in more familiar conditions. And with there being a unifying thing for his allies to fight against, Bolton will be finished soon enough. Though I must say I am surprised you did not go north Ser. I would have thought when you learnt of King Jon’s presence you would have headed north straight away.”

The man is silent a moment, and then he says. “I did, I still do. But my boy is a captive somewhere in the riverlands. I believe he is in Maidenpool, and until I get my boy back I cannot rest easy. I cannot go back home knowing my son sits in some shitty southern prison. No, I wait for the day when the lions come calling so I can get my revenge.”

“The Lions have come Ser, and yet you did nothing when it came to Riverrun. You sat and hid.” Brynden says, his voice rising in question.

“Who do you think removed Ryman Frey from this world? Who do you think picked of many of the Frey scouts and Lannister scouts during the siege. It was not your men Ser. It was mine, and Ser Ronnel’s we have been working hard to ensure things were tough for the Lannisters. But my boy was not there.” Ser Kyle responds.

Brynden nods on some level he can understand that. “I can understand why you did not actively engage. But I must know where the rest of the six hundred are. Have they spread out thinly across the Riverlands, or can they be called back quickly?”

Ser Kyle is silent a moment, and then. “Ronnel Stout and his men are at High Heart. Edwyle Waterman and his men are near here, and there are others who can come back quickly. Why do you ask Ser?”

“There are Freys in my home and I mean to remove them from there. they might think they have the place secure, but their alliances are tenuous at best, and as such the servants they have with them are all people that were put there beforehand. They will be outmatched, but I need to make sure I have some support should the lions come back.” Ser Brynden replies.

“You most definitely will Ser. The question is when are you going to plan to retake the castle?” Ser Kyle asks.

Before Brynden can respond, Harwin enters the room and whispers into his ear. “My lord, news has come from The Lemoncloak. It seems there are prisoners being moved from the Twins.”

The man moves back and Brynden looks at him then and asks. “When? And how many men are guarding them?”

Harwin is silent and then he responds. “One hundred men on foot I believe Ser.”

Brynden turns to Ser Kyle and says. “It seems there has been a change of plan Ser. The Freys have grown over confident, prisoners from the Twins.”

The man’s eyes light up at this and he asks. “How long till they reach here?”

Brynden looks at Harwin who says. “I am not sure Lemoncloak was not sure himself. But it does seem as though they are going to be setting of reasonably soon and they will most definitely be passing by here.”

Brynden looks at Ser Kyle then and asks. “How quickly can the men reassemble here?”

“Within three or four days if we truly wish to push Ser. We could have all the men here and waiting for when the escort comes, and ready to seize the prisoners when they come. And if the Freys are only sending one hundred men, we should succeed fairly easily.” Ser Kyle responds confidently

Brynden nods. “See to it that the others are informed Ser. Though of course if the Greatjon truly is a prisoner in the Twins and is part of this escort, there might not be that many Freys left in that escort by the time it gets here.”

Ser Kyle laughs at that and says. “That is very true. I am surprised they are sending so few men to escort their prisoners toward King’s Landing. One would have thought they would have sent more.”

Brynden smiles at this. “Walder Frey is dying Ser Kyle. He has been ever since the Red Wedding. Something tells me he will not be alive for long now if Ser Ryman dead. Freys will begin falling like flies. And with the trouble in the north for their kinsman they are a spent force.”

Ser Kyle nods. “That is true. Let us hope there are even fewer men within the escort when the time comes. I do not want my men to die fighting treacherous oafs like the Freys.”

Brynden nods. “Most definitely. The Freys have killed enough good men and women. It is time they paid the price for their treason.”

Ser Kyle looks at him then and when he speaks Brynden feels a chill go up his spine. “The North Remembers, Ser Brynden, the north remembers.”


	20. Last Lion

**7 th Month of 300 A.C. Golden Tooth**

**Ser Daven Lannister**

His whole life he had grown up knowing what his place was. He might be a Lannister of Casterly Rock, but he was not a Lannister of Casterly Rock. He was not the grandson of Tytos Lannister and so was not worthy of being afforded the same prestige and respect his cousins were. Daven had come to accept that as he had gotten older, despite being quite angry about it in his youth. His mother had been the one to teach him that just because he was not recognised as such it did not mean he could not achieve more than his cousins. And to a point Daven supposed his mother was right, he was far smarter than any of uncle Tywin’s children par Tyrion, though considering Jaime and Cersei’s misdemeanours he was not sure if that was a compliment, he certainly had more backbone than Cousin Kevan and his children. Indeed to Daven it felt like his family had been given a hard deal in life simply because they were not Tywin Lannister or his brood or siblings, and that grated on him.  His whole life he had been told that he needed to respect Tywin and his siblings and their children because they were better than him, and yet in the past two years he had seen first-hand that they were not. They were nothing more than nuisances and a hindrance, and it angered him.

Then there was the fact his sisters were being used as bargaining tools by Tywin. The man had the audacity to use Cerenna and Myrielle who were more beautiful than Cersei, and smarter as well, as tools to bring the Freys onside. They were to marry some weasel faced shit, simply so that Tywin could keep to his end of the pact that had created the Red Wedding. A disgraceful and dishonourable pact and event, no wonder the Freys were dying off in droves, he would have killed them himself had he not been bound because of Aunt Genna and the cripple’s presence. Their derogatory remarks about his sisters had angered him and once or twice he had genuinely come close to killing the Freys that had been there at Riverrun. He laughed at the chaos going on at the Twins and he deeply hoped they all died before the wedding took place, his sisters were worth more than some low life Frey. He would make sure of that.

From Riverrun he and his men as well as the lords who had come with him had returned to the Golden Tooth where Alysanne was waiting for them. With winter upon them, their instructions were simple settle the land and ensure there was no more trouble. And yet Daven felt that Tywin did not truly appreciate the gravity of the situation in the West. The Young Wolf had ravaged the Westerlands burning and pillaging as he went, the people were angry and bitter and wanted answers. Answers that Daven did not have, and for him it seemed as if he was being left to deal with the fall out of Tywin’s inaction. That angered him and he knew it angered many of the other lords with him, and so he had called a meeting to discuss the matter. As well as himself and Lady Alysanne, there was Lord Jason Parren a bitter and angry man who was a good friend of Daven’s, Ser Clement Vikary a tested battle commander, Lord Quenton Banefort a mysterious man who had shown himself very useful to Daven in the Riverlands when dealing with Freys, Lord Anton Kyndall and many others were present to discuss things. Daven looked around the room and spoke. “We have been treated badly by Tywin Lannister. He sees us as nothing more than servants to do his bidding as he pleases. He does not take into account the winter and the harshness that will come with it. He is blind to reality, so intent is he on his games in King’s Landing.”

“The people of the West are going hungry and there is nothing Tywin does to rectify this situation. He merely demands that we provide for our own. Not assuming that because of the Young Wolf, we might have lost more food than we can truly cover for. It is a reality the man refuses to face.” Lady Alysanne says.

“Tywin believes his land is at peace now with the Young Wolf dead. He is a fool has been blinded by ambition and the desire to achieve something that perhaps he should not. And we suffer for it. You all saw how the Riverlords reacted to our presence in the siege of Riverrun. They do not like us or trust us. Our word has become nothing more than shit.” Daven says.

“The lords of the Riverlands have begun picking away at our own in their discreet manner. That is something that Jaime and Tywin Lannister will try to keep from you my lords. The deaths that occurred during the campaign in the Riverlands were not the work of bandits, but the work of the Riverlords. They are undermining Tywin’s campaign in the riverlands to suit their own needs. The man is too blind to see this.” Alysanne says.

“If things are as truly desperate as you say my lady, surely it would be best or even within our duties as lords sworn to the Rock, to go forth and tell Tywin and Jaime of these problems rather than complain of them?” Ser Clement Moreland asks.

Daven snorts at this. “Tywin will tell us to go and deal with the issue ourselves. And we will be picked off one by one by the Riverlords. Do not forget that there is also a band of some six hundred northmen somewhere in the Riverlands as well. Anyone who flies a lion banner in the Riverlands will be dead before the day is over. No that is one chore I would rather not do.”

“Are you a craven that you would be afraid to fight a few fish Ser?” Moreland asks.

Daven feels the anger grow inside of him at this and it takes Alysanne’s hand on his arm that stops him from leaning over the table and throttling Moreland. “I am no craven Moreland. It was I who broke the siege not my cousin. He might think he did, but it was I who talked sense to both Edmure Tully and that oaf Ryman. I am the one who has given support to the allies Tywin has made for us whilst my cousin as sat in a cell rotting. I am no craven.”

“And yet you would not do your duty to your liege lord. You would remain here with your men and sit and wait whilst Tywin and Jaime do the hard work, and end the threat once and for all? How is that not being a craven Ser?” Moreland asks.

Alysanne’s hand is still on his arm but Daven is still seething inside. “I would not see our men fight a needless war. Tywin will never hold the Riverlands, not now that there is a Stark in the north. A Stark who is winning his battles and reclaiming the north. The north belongs to the Starks, and the Riverlands to the Tullys. Those two are more connected than anything else now. And those bonds will last far longer than anything that Tywin envisages. The sooner he realises it the better. But he will not.”

“So you would allow Westermen to die in the Riverlands, because you do not wish to fight is that it?” Moreland asks.

Daven can feel his patience running out, still he takes a deep breath and keeps his voice calm when he responds. “No, I wish to fight, but I do not see the need to pointlessly have our men slaughtered. Winter is coming, and we must be ready for when it does. The Ironborn are causing trouble for the Reach, they will turn their eyes to us soon enough. We must be ready for them and we must set the land to rights. We cannot do that if we are off gallivanting around the Riverlands.”

“What Ser Daven is saying is true. The Riverlords will be galvanized by the fact that there is a Stark in the north once more. Already they are causing trouble for the Freys and for Ser Jaime. Men are going missing and are dying. We have a long hard winter in front of us, we need all the men we have to ensure that we do not fall by the wayside again. And who better to lead us through the winter than Ser Daven the man who won victories against the northmen and the Riverlords?” Quenton Banefort says.

“Tywin could do just as good a job. The man is hand of the king and is still Lord of Casterly Rock.” Moreland points out.

“And where was Tywin when we needed him? Where was Tywin when the Young Wolf and his men came and sacked villages and plundered through our lands? He was sat in some rosy seat in the Riverlands. He does not know what we went through, what our people went through. He rules, but he does not rule. He uses fear, and I for one am tired to bending to a man who is not a lion, but a fake.” Lord Parren says passionately.

“He is more concerned with ensuring his line sit the throne than anything to do with us. He wants to only use us as a base for drawing men to fight his damnable wars. He dragged us into a war, a war that we were losing and will lose once more. I say gods damn the man and leave him and his son to their game of thrones.” Ser Vikary says.

“A boy who is half Lannister sits the throne. It is our duty to fight for him. And with the Tyrells backing them, we will not stand a chance.” Moreland argues.

“That boy is just that a boy. And he is no kin of mine. What does he know of the West, and the struggle to survive here? Nothing, he has grown up knowing only the capital. And he is as much a puppet as his brother was a mad man. Enough I say. It is time we had a say in our own fate.” Daven argues.

Lord Banefort stands then and gets down on bended knee. “Your family has ruled the West for thousands of years Your Grace. Tywin Lannister and his brood can keep their iron throne. I recognise no king but the King of the Westerlands, and that king is you.”

Lord Parren is good friend stands and bends the knee as well and says. “Ser Daven, you are my brother now and always. I will fight and die for you, if you ask it of me. You are the King of the Rock. The Lion of the West.”

Others get down on bended knee then and say. “To the King of the West, the King of the Rock. The Lion of the West. Daven Lannister, The King we want and the king we need.”

Daven looks at Alysanne who is staring at him lovingly and her voice is proud when she says. “You are the people chosen king Your Grace. You are the man who will take us from this darkness. You will show us the way to the light. From this day to my last, I will stand beside you as your wife to be. My men are yours, their swords are yours to do with as you please.”

Daven looks at Moreland then who seems stunned he stands, but he does not get to one knee instead he says. “I will not allow this. Tywin Lannister is our liege lord. We are King Tommen’s people. This is treason.”

Daven looks at the man and says. “It is not treason if we never belonged to the throne in the first place Moreland. Do you refuse to bend the knee?”

“I will never bend the knee to you. A false lion.” Moreland says.

Alysanne looks at Moreland and her voice is venomous when she says. “He is no false lion. He is the last lion Moreland.”

“And I will bring the West back from the darkness. My lady?” he says looking at Alysanne.

She nods and says. “Guards seize this man.”

As the guards seize and drag Moreland away, Daven looks at the lords before him and says. “My ancestors were once great kings. I shall make the west great once more. Tywin’s days are done. This is the day of the golden lion, not the old. Summon your men, we march for the Rock.”


	21. Lost Girl

**7 th Month of 300 A.C. Somewhere**

**Arya Stark**

Since her father had been executed on the steps of Baelor, Arya Stark had travelled across numerous places, she had seen things that she wished she could not see, over and over again in her dreams. Alas such thoughts were futile, her dreams were plagued by the horrors of Harrenhal, and the nightmare that had been seeing her people cut down. Robb was dead, her mother more than likely dead as well. It was something she did not like thinking about, and yet it was something she could not stop thinking about. It hurt, and it angered her, and it kept her going, through all the pain and sorrow. The chance to get revenge, that was what filled her, kept her going through the cold nights that were quickly becoming the north. The urge to return home, that was what kept her going.

Her companions were an odd assortment of people. There was the Hound, who she had hated whilst she had been in King’s Landing but had soon come to appreciate. He was gruff but he told it as he saw it, and she appreciated that. Arya disliked being treated like a child, she had seen things and done things that no child ever did, and the Hound recognised that and did not try to hide the harshness of the world. In a way their relationship had improved due to their shared hatred of the Lannisters and their ability to speak truthfully to one another. Their hatred of the Lannisters did make it somewhat awkward for her and him when it came to interacting with Tyrion Lannister, the Imp who was Sansa’s husband. The man was funny, but there was the fact that he was a Lannister that made Arya uncertain over whether what he was saying was true or not.

The other companions were strange. Brienne of Tarth, was a giant of a woman, who was good with a sword, and someone who seemed more concerned with upholding the vow she had sworn to Arya’s dead mother than with anything else. With the trouble in the north that they kept hearing about, Brienne of Tarth continued suggesting that they find Greywater Watch and wait there until things were over and done. And yet Arya wanted to return home, Jon was there, Jon was fighting for their home and Arya wanted to help him. She could help, she knew how to fight, she knew how to kill, she could help Jon. And yet Brienne of Tarth and Lannister were determined to wait and see and that angered her. Why did she have to do as these people said? She was a Stark not some common serving girl, she would do what she damned well pleased.

Of course, there were problems with this. She had not been able to find a suitable way to escape, and that angered her, she was constantly being watched, and watched. Her movements were watched and observed, and by the gods, it was annoying and aggravating. Today was no different, sat as she was saying her list she felt eyes upon her and looked up to see the Imp looking at her. “What are you staring at Lannister?” she asks angrily.

“Nothing my lady Arya, I am merely checking to make sure you do not do anything stupid.” Tyrion says.

Arya stretches her hands out then and says in exasperation. “Well clearly I am not. There is nowhere to go. We do not even know where in the seven hells we are. How can I leave you all if I do not know where we are and how far away it is from the north?”

“And that is the issue is it not my lady? You want to head north now, in the middle of a war. Should the Boltons, ever get their hands on you, they will use you against your brother and then the war will be lost. No, you are more use to your brother here, wherever here maybe, away from the fighting and away from the possibility of being killed.” The Imp responds.

Arya grits her teeth then and snarls. “What do you care? You’re a Lannister, I am surprised you are not going off to Bolton now and trying to sell me to him. Or even back down to King’s Landing to your family to try and do the same.”

The imp laughs. “Oh come now my lady. You insult me. Surely you know by now that I have no love for my family, and they have no love for me. The mere fact that they tried to kill me whilst in King’s Landing, and whilst we were riding toward the Vale, surely that shows you that they want nothing to do with me. I want nothing to do with them either. No. I would rather keep my head then lose it.”

“So you are just keeping us company to see if you can gain some favour from Jon? Of course you are. There is no honour in you or your family. And of course you are married to my sister, are you hoping by giving me back to Jon, Jon will allow you to remain married to my sister? Because he will not you know. He would probably kill you than allow that.” Arya all but snarls.

The Imp laughs. “Oh come now Lady Arya, surely you must know by now that I am not that mad. I know the moment I give you over to your brother, he will more than likely have me imprisoned. I am merely repaying an old debt I owe him. And I have no wish to remain married to your sister. That was a marriage neither of us wanted, if she wants it over and done with then so be it.”

Arya looks at the man sceptically and asks. “How do I know you are speaking the truth? You could be lying for all I know, Lannisters lie.”

The Imp laughs once more and Arya grits her teeth in anger. “Of course you do not know whether I speak truly or not. And yet we would not be here in this frozen piece of land were this not the truth. If I wanted some gain from my family we would be going south right now. And yet we are not.”

Arya looks at him and then says uncertainly. “You would not be able to change the course we are going. The Hound and Lady Brienne would not allow you to. They want to go north and so we will go north.”

The Imp looks at her with his mismatched eyes and says. “Ah but the Hound once worked for my family, and the man does whatever he wants for gold. And considering your brother would have finished fighting a war by the time we get to Winterfell, there is not going to be all that much gold that he can offer a man like the Hound. Whereas, there is gold that I can offer him is more than he could get in a year serving for your brother.”

Arya looks at the Imp, and is unsure whether or not he is speaking the truth, but before she can question him she sees Brienne of Tarth and the Hound coming to sit down by the camp fire. The Lady of Tarth looks somewhat worried whilst the Hound looks angry. The Imp speaks and asks. “So what news have you learned today then that warrants two such extreme reactions?”

“Fuck off Imp.” The hound growls, and immediately Arya feels like laughing.

The seriousness of Lady of Tarth’s expression however, stops her from laughing. The Lady of Tarth is silent and then she says. “It seems that things have gotten worse for your family Lannister. Word in the inn says that your cousin Daven Lannister has declared himself King of the West. He is trying to take the Rock.”

The sellsword Bronn snorts. “Seems like your family is fucked Tyrion.”

Arya does not know what the sellsword is doing here. The Imp however merely says. “Well Bronn, it looks like my chances of being able to pay you have drastically reduced. Daven Lannister, as King, well my father certainly won’t be happy about that.”

“Aye, well maybe this King in the North, has some money to give me. To cover your debts to me.” Bronn japes.

“There was more news was there not?” Arya asks.

Brienne looks at her and then says. “There was. It seems the Freys are moving prisoners from the Twins down to King’s Landing, on orders of the Iron Throne. And it also seems that something is happening at the Vale, some sort of movement is happening.”

“Movement, what do you mean by movement?” Arya asks unsure of what Brienne means.

“She means that, the Vale are getting ready for war. It seems the cunts are finally doing something about the shit storm that their lady has created.” The hound responds.

Arya looks at the hound and asks. “What about my sister? What about Sansa?”

“The Little bird is heading north. It seems that the imp’s father has allowed for her to marry Bolton’s bastard. They will be going north with a contingent of men.” The Hound says.

Arya feels something seize in her chest. “Sansa’s going north? She’s going north? Will she be coming through the riverlands?”

“No my lady, more than likely she will travel by ship toward White Harbour. It is safer than going through the Riverlands.” Brienne responds.

“We have to go north, and we have to go north now!” Arya nearly shouts. “I can’t allow Sansa to marry Bolton’s bastard. I can’t! The Boltons betrayed our family, I won’t allow her to go to those traitors!”

“And how pray tell do we get there. We are currently near the bite, there are no ships here for another three days. By that time it is possible Sansa would already be in Winterfell. This news is old no doubt, there is no chance for us getting there without risking you.” The Imp says.

“I don’t care, we can get to Greywater Watch, and the Reeds protect us. I know they will. They are loyal and always have been loyal to the Starks!” Arya shouts.

“And how do we get into the Neck without the Freys becoming aware? The moment they learn of our group we will be pulled into the twins and asked all sorts of questions, and should that old goat Frey find out he has you? Well then we are in all kinds of shit. And then there are the lizard lions and I do not want to die by lion.” The imp says.

Arya looks at the man and asks. “Well then what do you suggest? Since you seem to know everything.”

The Imp smiles at her and Arya feels her anger grow. “Well seeing as you asked so nicely, I would say that seeing as we are quite close to the bite, we stay near the coast and walk that way. We will avoid the Twins and hopefully Lizard Lions at that point.”

Arya looks at him then and huffs. “Fine, but we are going north. I will not have my sister marry any traitor.”

“Seeing as I am still alive, I do not think that is possible.” The Imp quips.

“My Lady Arya, I do not know whether this is a wise course of action. There is too much happening in the north, there is too much danger, and the risks of losing you to the enemy are too high.” Brienne says.

“I do not care, I want to return home and I want to make sure my family is safe. There will never be a better chance than this. I do not want to miss it.” Arya says.

“The girl speaks sense. We cannot miss this, otherwise Baelish will have time to have more power. And it will be too hard to get to the little bird.” The Hound says.

“So we are decided then, we leave in three days.” The Imp says, and Arya feels something akin to hope blossom for the first time in a long time.


	22. Death, Destroyer of Worlds

**7 th Month of 300 A.C. Deepwood Motte**

**King Jon II Stark**

The Ironborn were as good as gone from the north, there was a paltry force left at Torrhen’s Square, but Jon was confident they would be removed with relative ease. After all Jon did have Asha Greyjoy a hostage and from speaking to the woman, or rather torturing her, he had learned that the man holding the Square, Dagmar Cleftjaw was quite close to her and her brother and would likely surrender in exchange for her life. That was something that Jon was determined to use to good effect, he would end this damn war with the Ironborn and then head to Winterfell to take back what was rightfully his. Deepwood Motte and the Glovers themselves were slowly rebuilding their lives back together, ensuring that the harshness of the Ironborn was removed and order was restored, and Jon was glad for that, for it meant that they would be safe especially with winter fast approaching.

There was of course one small hindrance to his plan. Stannis Baratheon the man who would be king over all of Westeros was in the north and having marched from Castle Black was heading here in an attempt to either negotiate or fight with Jon. Jon was in no mood to negotiate with a fire worshipping mad man, and had ordered the Forresters, the Boles and the Branches to plant traps all along the Wolfswood so that the man’s scouts and men would be hindered and killed as they rode toward Deepwood Motte. There was a time when Jon would have welcomed Stannis Baratheon and perhaps would have treated him as an ally king if not as a master, but news of the man’s activities at the wall especially the burning of Maester Aemon for his kings’ blood had greatly angered Jon and now he was determined to see the man die. He would not live for that, nor would Jon allow him to try and burn the weirwoods as his sources told him the man was intent on doing.

The men from House Bole had come back reporting some success in dealing with Baratheon’s scouts their heads were now mounted on spikes in Deepwood Motte and Ironrath as a warning to Baratheon and his men. It also seemed that the snows and the cold were limiting just how effective Baratheon’s red witch truly was. The decision to bring her on campaign with him, was one more strike against Baratheon as far as Jon was concerned, he did not want that woman in his kingdom or anywhere near his people. It was time for her to learn that the old ways were the best ways for the north. It was time for her to die. The Baratheon had also brought his wife and daughter with him on his march surprised Jon, and not for the first time Jon wondered if Stannis Baratheon was unable to feel emotion, what man brought his family to a war zone?

Jon shook his head and some of the snow fell off of his hair, and fell to the ground. He was mounted and armoured, in the heart of the Wolfswood waiting for his scouts to arrive back and give him news of Stannis Baratheon and his men. Baratheon had some five thousand men with him, whilst Jon had some eight thousand with him, men had come from the western coast of the north rallying to his banner. He was the Stark of Winterfell now and it was to him that the north looked for guidance. He would give it to them and ensure that there was nothing left of Baratheon or his host by the time this was done.

The sight of Ghost’s ears pricking up grabs Jon’s attention and soon enough, Donnor Snow, the bastard of the Mountains arrives. “Stannis Baratheon and his men are coming this way Your Grace.” The man says.

“Very well,” Jon responds. “Roddy sound the horns.”

His friend blows his horn a sound that is echoed by a dozen other horns throughout the wood, with any luck Baratheon and his men will be caught off guard. He and his men are encircled now, with men planted throughout the wood moving in toward him. Jon waits a moment and then spurs his horse onward, Longclaw is drawn waiting for blood and Jon is willing to give it to her. They ride through the wood and Jon can feel his heart beat increasing, the thrill of battle coming to him now. They crash into a host flying Baratheon’s banner, and the animal inside Jon takes over. He roars and growls and throws himself into the heat of battle.

The southerners are taken aback by the suddenness of the attack, the loss of their scouts has left them blind. Jon takes a savage pleasure in that, he roars and growls. Cutting his way through them, allowing the blood he sheds to fill his nose and take delight in the smell. He roars and charges and cuts, swinging his sword like it is nothing more than a stick. Bodies fall to the ground as men are killed or injured, knocked of their horses by the blows he and his men deal them. They run through this part of Baratheon’s army relatively quickly and whilst his men cheer and shout, Jon knows that the challenge is not done. There are more men and Jon is determined to find them. Let them know the wrath of the north.

He barks a command and his men form a shield and as they ride through the wood they meet more and more of Baratheon’s men. All of whom looked surprised and shocked at the onslaught that has greeted them. Jon grins savagely and begins cutting his way through this lot of men. His sword is dripping wet with blood, his anger and the righteous rage he feels fills him and drives him forward. Any blows he takes he does not feel, these wounds are nothing compared to the wounds the north has suffered under Baratheon rule. He will end that tonight, the Baratheons will die with Stannis and his wife. They will die and there will be nothing left of them. That thought fills him with glee and he turns into wolf and man and rips his way through Stannis’s host.

The battle is a slaughter, Stannis and his men are lost trapped in the snows and the darkness of the Wolfswood. Jon chose this time for the battle because he knew, he just knew how vulnerable a southern army would be. The wolves that once haunted this wood had made it their habit to stalk prey at night when sight was best. With ghost at his side, Jon is able to tell just where Stannis’s men are and when they are trying to lure them into a trap. He wonders whether it is Ghost or himself who is in control every move the other makes he can feel it. He can feel Ghost’s joy at the hunt, and he knows Ghost can sense his joy as well. They are one, they are together, and they are removing the threats to the north.

The snow covered ground is littered with the bodies of Stannis’s southern knights, their bodies broken and shattered. The sight fills Jon with a sort of grim pleasure, it is something that for so long he has wanted to do, to show the southerners that they are  nothing, they live because the north allows them to. Longclaw sings with the blood that covers it and that it has shed, she sings a war song, a song that makes Jon’s blood fill with desire and lust. He kills more men and laughs as he does so. There will be no happy ending for the Baratheon host. More and more bodies fill the ground and their blood paints the ground red and white. The red witch has no power here, winter is in control, and Jon is in control now.

The battle goes on for only a little while longer. Jon and his men have significantly overwhelmed Stannis and his men. And if it is not the slaughter that Jon first thought it would be, that is no matter. The battle ends with Stannis Baratheon and his wife and daughter brought before Jon. The red woman is brought as well. There are other prisoners who are brought before Jon but they are not important to Jon he orders them killed, indeed he does the deed himself, making Baratheon and his family watch as he removes his knights heads from their bodies. Once their bodies are removed from his sight, Jon turns his attention to Stannis. “Stannis Baratheon the man who would sit the Iron Throne. Tell me what did you hope to gain by coming north?”

Baratheon looks like shit, covered in blood and mud and gore. His voice is harsh when he replies. “The support that is rightfully mine. I am the king of Westeros, you are nothing but a traitor, boy.”

Jon snorts at that as his men laugh. “A traitor? I think not Baratheon. My brother was King in the North, his men named him their king. And his men named me their king. I have the support of my people, you have the support of no one but the desperate and the broken. You are no king of the north. You are nothing.”

“I am the King Westeros needs to survive the darkness that is coming Snow. You are a man of the Watch, or rather you were. You know what is coming.” Baratheon replies.

“What makes you so sure we need your help? The north defeated the enemy the last time it came south, and we shall do so once more. You are nothing but a burden and your heresy is something I do not want.” Jon states.

“The threat is greater this time Jon Stark, the one who was the founder of the north comes with them this time. He did not last time they were alive. King Stannis is the one person who can beat him. He is Azor Azhai, born amongst salt and smoke, the lord of light’s chosen. He is what Westeros needs.” The red woman says.

Jon looks at the red woman then and says. “Ah you are the red whore. The woman who has this man enraptured. You are the one who burns people. Your religion is not wanted here. You are not wanted here murderer. Maester Aemon was a good man.”

“His death was necessary for the King to get what he needs to fight the war that is to come. Sometimes it is the innocents that must die for the rewards to be reaped. For the Lord of Light loves the innocents who give themselves to his flame.” The red woman says.

Jon sees the way the woman looks at Baratheon’s daughter, and he knows what she implies. He looks at Baratheon then and says. “You mean to give your own daughter to the flames?”

“I will do whatever is necessary to see that I get what is mine.” Baratheon responds his eyes flashing red momentarily.

“You are no man, no man would give his daughter to the flames. No man would do half of what you have done to get the throne. You are not worthy of the crown you covet Baratheon. And for that you shall be taught another harsh lesson. Theo, bring the red woman here.” Jon says.

Theo Wull brings the red woman to stand before him he holds her arms and Jon looks at her, she is smiling. “You cannot harm me Jon Stark. The Lord of Light shall protect me from any harm.”

Jon unsheathes Longclaw then and says. “We are not in the south anymore, your god has no power here. Only winter and the old gods rule. And I am the King of Winter. You shall suffer your fate. Theo hold her arms.” The Wull holds her arms but the red woman does not struggle, even as Jon pulls Longclaw back and then thrusts it into her stomach, twisting and turning, and then pulling out and thrusting again. There are gasps of shock from the gathered party, but Jon ignores them he continues doing this until there the woman’s skin has been opened. He sheathes Longclaw then and reaches into the gap that he has created and begins ripping out the woman’s entrails. He holds them up before her and says. “You have no power here woman. You will die slowly, just as Maester Aemon did. Theo let her go.” Wull lets her go, and the woman falls to the ground groaning in pain. Jon then walks over to Stannis Baratheon who is looking at him in horror. Jon places the entrails before him. “Your crown, Your Grace.”

 


	23. Lady Double Dealer

**8 th Month of 300 A.C The Black Betha**

**Alayne Stone**

Alayne hated the Black Betha, the ship she and her father were on. The way the water made the boat toss and turn made her stomach rumble and grumble in protest. She had been deathly sick most of the time she had been on board. Not the most attractive of sights, and she did feel somewhat guilty. Her father had so wanted her to impress Ser Harrold that she did not want to let him down. Harrold had been good to her as well, coming to pay her a visit sometimes when she felt as if she were just going to die. He would speak kind words to her and talk of things other than the sea and the way her face looked pale. And yet Alayne knew it was a lie, Harrold was not interested in her, he was interested in what she could offer him as Lord Baelish’s daughter. And Alayne knew how to fuck the secrets out of him. He had told her much and more about his plots, or half formed plots and she was going to use that to her own advantage.

It was funny, the two men who were dominating her life, both of whom thought they had a secure control over her, were both so easy to read and to control that a child could do it. Harry was not a smart man, he was a good warrior and he was charming yes, but he was not smart. His plots and plans were so ill thought out that even Hodor could have poked a hole through them. Alayne had quickly learned that he was only good for fucking, and he liked to talk after sex, and that was how she had come to learn of the division in the Winged Knights, the guards who protected Sweetrobin. Some had come with them on this journey north, something she had suggested to her father. Her father was another man who was quite simple when one thought of it. He wanted her, Alayne knew that, or rather he wanted Sansa Stark not Alayne Stone, and he wanted her for what she reminded him of. And that was why they were talking now in his cabin.

“So tell me sweetling what have you learned from Ser Harrold today then?” her father asks looking at her intently.

Alayne straightens her dress and says. “He means to remove you once we get to the north. He means to present me to Ramsay Bolton himself. It seems he has been getting ideas from some of the men who are part of the guard.”

Her father looks at her a moment then and then asks. “And why does he think he will succeed in removing me?”

“Because he believes you are unpopular and that the men who are with him are actually willing to commit this crime. He does not know that everything he has, is because of you. That his mere presence here is a blessing that you have given him.” Alayne replies.

Her father smiles then. “He has become over confident. Just as I said he would. And what happens to people who become over confident?”

“They do stupid things father. They end up creating their own deaths. And that is why Harry shall fail, because he has no true support this far away from home.” Alayne says.

Her father walks to her then and stands before her cupping her cheek. “Indeed he has. Harry the heir suffers from something all young men who are good with swords suffer from. Over confidence. He believes the world will fall to its knees simply because he can swing a sword. But of course it will not. Only the smart and clever will rule this world at the end of it all.”

“Stannis Baratheon did not learn that lesson did he father? He thought the lords of the north would rally to his banner because he promised them revenge.” Alayne says.

“Indeed he did. And the northmen proved him wrong, they would never rally to a man who threatens their culture. That is why Ser Harrold will never sit comfortably in the north. He is too far from the culture and the people to understand them.” her father says.

“And the Boltons father? What of them? They are traitors, the northmen will never abide the traitors to rule Stark lands.” Alayne says, feeling Sansa coming forward now.

“The Boltons have the support of the crown for now. They will not for very long. Your brother is gaining more and more men as we speak, he is doing many things that are beneficial to us sweetling. He is weakening Bolton’s forces, and he will have reclaimed most of the north by the time that we arrive at White Harbour.” Her father says.

“What is there stopping him from killing us both though? He would think that I am here to marry Ramsay Snow, why would he not kill a girl he thinks a traitor?” Alayne asks.

Her father kisses her then and when he breaks the kiss, Sansa feels horrible. “Because you are his sister. And no son of Eddard Stark would ever turn away his sister for anything. You will be the one to sit the throne of Winter, not the bastard. Never the bastard.”

Her father turns away then, and Alayne sees something glistening on the table before her. She asks. “Why did you write to the Boltons father? Why offer me to them? That would get us nothing. Not with my brother alive.”

Her father turns round and faces her smiling. “It would mean that when news got out, the northmen would fight all the harder for you. They would not want their precious Lord’s daughter marrying Ramsay Snow. It would leave them broken and it would mean your brother might well die in the fighting. And then you would be free to sit the winter throne as is your right.”

Alayne hears someone moving above them on the deck of the ship and she wonders what is going on. Her father is kissing her then, kissing her before she can speak. He is kissing her and kissing her, she falls back onto the bed breathless, and then her father follows her, kissing her again, harder this time. When he breaks the kiss, he says. “Turn round sweetling.”

“Why father?” Alayne asks her voice trembling.

“So I might see you.” Her father responds.

Reluctantly Alayne turns round, exposing the straps of her dress to her father, she feels his fingers moving quickly as he undoes them. She feels the dress fall loose and then as it falls to the bed, she feels a shiver run over her back as her father runs his hands over her back. He begins peppering her back with kisses, he kisses and sucks on her skin and she feels horrible. When her father stops she looks behind her, a mistake, for she sees her father undoing his trousers. “What are you doing father?” she asks.

Her father looks at her his eyes filled with lust. “I am going to have what Brandon and Eddard Stark denied me sweetling. I am going to have you.” Alayne feels herself begin to turn over, but arms press her down and as she struggles her father whispers. “Come now sweetling, don’t resist your father.” She hears her father’s trousers fall to the ground, she closes her eyes as she feels her father hovering over her. His breath heavy. “So beautiful, so very beautiful.” She hears him pant.

Inside her Sansa is screaming, crying out for her to do something. To fight this sense of helplessness that is enveloping her. As Alayne cries out at the feeling of her father pushing his way into her, Sansa is roaring for her to fight back, to do anything other than just lie there and take it. But Alayne is powerless unable to do anything. She feels her father panting as he goes in and out, in and out, in and out. It hurts, by the gods does it hurt. It hurts so very much, so very, very much. She feels a tear begin to roll down her face, but she does not know what to do. Her cries fill the room and mix with her father’s pants and groans.

It goes on for how long she does not know, she goes away deep inside. To a much happier time and place, when she was not so broken. When there were Starks in Winterfell and she had never thought of marrying a prince. She wanted to go home, she wanted away from this place, she wanted to see her brother again, to tell him how sorry she was, how sorry she was that she had been cruel to him when they were children. That she had missed him, that she loved him. By the gods she just wanted this to stop. She was crying and her body was reacting in a way that it never did with Harry, there was no pleasure in this for her, merely pain. By the gods this hurt. It hurt and it hurt.

And then it stops and Sansa is confused by this. She can hear voices. “What are you doing? Get off me. I am Lord Petyr Baelish, Lord Protector of the Vale unhand me.”

“Actually my lord, I think you’ll find that thanks to Lord Robert, Lord Yohn is now Lord Protector of the Vale. The truth has come out my lord, you are done for.” A man says his voice deep.

Sansa hears this but does not process it, she does not understand it. Not until a hand touches her, she pulls away then instantly. “Easy my lady,” a voice says softly. “It is me, Harry.”

Sansa looks through scared eyes at the man before her and sees Harry Hardying, his expression soft, his eyes caring. “How? Why?” she asks confused.

“It is a long story my princess. I could not be sure, but today has confirmed it for me. I am sorry it has taken so long. But if you wish to come with me, then that would be for the best.” The man says.

Her father, no Lord Baelish’s voice rings out then. “Do not go with him sweetling. He is a traitor, he is working for the Boltons.”

There is a thump and her father, no Lord Baelish has gone quiet. “Do not listen to him my princess. He has been working for the Lannisters. I know it is a lot to process, but please come with me and I will be able to explain.” The man who is Harry, but is not Harry says.

Sansa looks at him then and asks her voice shaking. “Why? Why should I trust you?”

“Because we are going to take you to your brother. Please my princess you must come with us and soon. We do not have much time.” Harry responds.

“Where? Where are we going?” Sansa asks.

“To your brother my princess. They are waiting for you there. They are all waiting for you. Please my princess.” Harry says extending a hand.

Sansa looks passed the man and sees someone she recognises, bold Donnel Waynwood is there holding Baelish. “You can trust us my princess, truly you can.”

Sansa looks between the two men and then Lord Baelish on the floor and something in her head makes her remember something the man had once boasted when drunk. _I was the one who made Eddard Stark fall. He grew too mighty and then he fell, and I did it sweetling, I did it._ Something makes her take Harry’s hand, she does not know what. But she finds herself taking his hand and being pulled up and off the bed, a cloak is put over her to cover her nakedness and she is led from the room. “Put him in chains Donnel.” She hears Harry say.

Sansa feels dazed and confused, she asks or she thinks she asks. “Where are we going?”

“To White Harbour my princess. To see you home.” Harry replies

For the first time in a very long time, Sansa Stark laughs, and then she cries, and then darkness engulfs her.

 

 


	24. Haul Away

**8 th Month of 300 A.C. On the Way to Winterfell**

**King Jon II Stark**

The plan had been to move from Deepwood Motte to Torrhen’s Square, there were still Ironborn in the damned place and Jon meant to remove them piece by piece, limb by limb if he had to. But then Stannis Baratheon had attacked him and the man had been captured. That had meant a change of plan, to Jon it made more sense to attack Winterfell now, whilst Bolton and his son were weakest, after Deepwood Motte and defeating Baratheon more northmen were flocking to his banner, the direwolf of House Stark and Bolton was losing men. It was something that Jon was eagerly looking forward to, the fight, the chance to take on the Boltons and avenge Robb and mother. He was waiting for the chance, the chance to do something worth wile. Winterfell was calling to him and he knew it would be a simple battle.

It was only going to be one chance, one chance to right a wrong that had happened because of his brother’s naivety. Jon was going remove the Boltons once and for all and ensure that they never rose up once and for all. He was going to end them and then give Bolton’s daughter to Roddy, his friend had always cared for his cousin perhaps it was time he was given that chance. Scouts had been sent out ahead, to see what Bolton’s plans were, and what sort of formations the man was attempting. It seemed that Roose was playing it cautious he was not allowing for too many men to leave Winterfell, but he was willing to send Frey and Manderly men out of the castle. Clearly there had been some level of confrontation between the two families. Jon was all the willing to accept that. He had never believed for a moment that the Manderlys would ever betray his family.

Jon had been intent on waiting for Bolton to become more relaxed and seep in through the cracks that appeared as a result, but he did know that he would have to wait for a very long time for that to happen. And that was time, that if he was being true to himself he did not want to wait. He wanted to be in Winterfell, he wanted to be back in his home. He wanted Bolton and Bolton’s bastard dead. He would do what needed to be done and he would do it now. News that Bolton had sent his bastard out to do some scouting, had come as a great relief to Jon. The bastard was according to Roddy quite rash and like to do something stupid. Now that was what Jon had been waiting for. He would take advantage of that, lure Bolton’s bastard out with his men.

That was why Stannis Baratheon had been placed out in the open, men were calling out and shouting that Stannis had escaped from the camp. If Bolton’s bastard was as impulsive as everyone told Jon he was, he did suspect that the man would come charging through trying to claim the man for himself. The sounds of the woods indicated that that would be the case. There were heavy footfalls, barking, the sound of men and dogs. The bastard was coming. Jon feels himself tense with anticipation, his heart is hammering in his chest. The desire to charge and break rank is strong, but he knows he must wait. He cannot do anything that would alert Bolton’s bastard to their presence. And as much as he hates waiting he knows it is for the best. He takes a deep breath and waits.

Baratheon looks like such a lone figure out there in the clearing. He is chained slightly, but not enough that he could ride completely freely, but enough to make Bolton’s bastard think that he had escaped captivity. Jon can hear his heart hammering, Ghost paces around him. All is silent apart from the deafening sound of hooves and barking dogs. Jon can feel his nerves increasing, his heart is hammering away in his chest. He does not know what to do with himself, his hand rests on Longclaw ready to draw it out the moment the plan starts working. Baratheon remains there on his horse, looking exhausted and tired, as he truly is. There is movement getting closer, and then out of nowhere, a dog leaps through the air and tears Baratheon’s horse down.

Jon feels his men tense in anticipation, he holds out a hand calming them for the moment. More dogs appear out of the clearing, tearing Stannis’s horse to pieces. It is surprising none of them actually go for Stannis himself, and yet he knows why. The bastard of the Dreadfort comes galloping into the clearing then with his men. Jon knows not how many men there are, but he feels anger stir inside of him. This is the man who was to marry his sister, this is the man who drove Bran and Rickon from their home. He will end this man now. He counts to three and then with no urging at all Ghost lets loose a howl. A mournful howl and Jon and his men charge in from the woods.

The bastard and his men are temporarily caught off guard and Jon manages to kill a few of them in that time. His heart hammers furiously in his chest as he fights. Longclaw drawn from its scabbard swinging and slashing, arcing through the air and driving home a point that Jon has long wanted to drive home. This is Stark land not Bolton land, never Bolton land. By the gods it feels good to do something like this, he swings his sword and cuts through one man then another. It is exhilarating the drive for this. The lust for blood. The bastard is somewhere in the clearing fighting his way to Jon. He barks a challenge and more than half a dozen men come to meet it. They fall to their deaths. Ghost by his side ripping through those he misses. His blood is up and the wolf inside is howling for vengeance.

The battle increases, more and more men are pouring in from the woods both Stark men and Bolton men, Jon suspects both sides have been anticipating the other for moons now. It fill him with more than enough joy to cut down the Bolton men. He swings his sword and allows natural instinct kick in. Death comes on his blade today, there is no reprieve for anyone fighting for the Boltons he will not accept such treachery in his kingdom and allow the perpetrators to live. This treachery ends now, it ends with Ramsay and Roose’s deaths. His sword is singing with the amount of blood that has been spilt during the battle so far and there is only more to come.

As he sees the two towers of House Frey approaching he growls and he and Ghost begin cutting a bloody path toward the approaching traitors. Ramsay Snow is forgotten for a moment as Jon and his direwolf begin their plans for retribution. The thought of Robb lying there dead in the Twins fills him with the fuel he needs to cut through the men coming toward him. Those that he does not kill are killed by Ghost, his direwolf experiencing the same savage desire as he does. They become one, man and wolf, allowing for their desire for blood to fill their body. Every action now is about getting revenge. The weasels die screaming and squealing and by the gods does it feel good. It feels good to hear the men who betrayed his brother die.

Longclaw drips blood, the ground is covered in it, the bodies are piling up, and still Jon’s desire continues to grow. There are so many Freys it makes hard for him to truly concentrate on just one of them. They all die sooner or later, either by his blade, or by another’s. Ghost kills a fair few of them, and that gives him a lot of joy. A lot of joy. A horn sounds somewhere in the distance and then there are more screams and signs of pain. Jon looks around curiously, and sees to his heart’s content, the Merman of House Manderly fluttering next to the direwolf of Stark as Manderly men cut down the Freys in their path. There are cries of treason but Jon knows it is not, there can be no treason when Roose Bolton was never the true ruler of the north.

Jon and his men take heart from this and begin pushing toward Winterfell. Driving Ramsay Snow and his men back into the abyss that is the battlefield, Winterfell is so close now he can almost taste it. The push continues, Jon killing or injuring those men who come into his path. He cares not who they are, all he cares is that they get out of his way. Bolton’s bastard is so close, so very close. The man himself seems to be swinging madly trying to get to Jon. When they do eventually come face to face, they are both covered in dirt and blood, wounds appearing that will worsen as the day goes on. Jon is determined that Snow will never know another sunrise or sunset. He will end the man now.

They meet in a clash of steel, Jon pushing with all his might against Snow. Snow might be bigger than Jon but he lacks skill, his swings and thrusts are erratic, which does make it harder for Jon to pick up on them leading to some early blows. Of course within time he picks up on the direction the bastard is going and so he manages to lead him astray. A little feint here, a little prod there. The bastard grows angrier and angrier as their little game continues, he has no patience, and no ability to play the long game and that is something Jon will use to his advantage. He moves his horse around the field, drawing the bastard closer and moving away before the man can strike him. The bastard roars in frustration and falls right into Jon’s trap. His horse is killed by Ghost and as he falls Jon moves from his horse and as if possessed by a wolf pounces on the bastard thrusting his sword in and out and in and out of the man over and over again. Snow lies beaten and bruised and dead on the ground. Jon laughs at that but the battle is not over.

Winterfell awaits, and as Jon and his men spurred on by the death of the bastard and so many enemies ride forth toward his home, he feels a sense of accomplishment and strength in what he has done. His heart is beating every quicker in his chest as they ride toward the castle, the Manderlys have joined their party but no words are exchanged between them. What they have done today is sign enough of where their loyalties lie. They continue riding through the snow and the gore, and Jon knows that there will be more fighting to come before he can sit on the Winter throne. Gods he wants to go home so desperately now, a want he had not allowed himself to think of before he had left Deepwood Motte.

There is no battle though when Jon and his men turn up at Winterfell, only scores of dead bodies, and the gates are open. Jon and his men ride into the castle and see men and women getting on bended knee. Jon looks at them all and wonders what has happened he asks as much. And is told that the Boltons were beaten they are either dead or captured. Jon nods in approval and rides onward, people bending and bowing as he does so.  He enters the great hall his heart beating rapidly in his chest and dismounts. With Ghost at his side he walks toward the winter throne, the place where his father and his ancestors sat and ruled, he walks and walks, his sword sheathed. And when he gets to the steps of the throne he stops and looks back, the lords and ladies are all on bended knee looking at him in anticipation. He takes a deep breath and then walks up the steps, turns and sits on the throne.


	25. Kingmaker

**8 th Month of 300 A.C. Winterfell**

**Lord Willam Dustin**

The battle of Winterfell had been a nervous affair for Willam, for he knew he had been playing a very close game. The Boltons were at one another’s throats, Roose and Ramsay were not getting along well, and Willam had been poisoning the bastard’s mind against his father. It had been at his suggestion that his goodbrother had sent the bastard out to scout for Stannis Baratheon, and it had been at his suggestion that the Manderly men had gone out to fight. Wyman Manderly had been injured whilst mocking the Freys, and it seemed the man had become more rash and bold since news had come of Rickon Stark’s arrival in White Harbour, something Willam was most pleased about. The man was now close to death, the wounds he had received more fatal than had first been thought. The battle had of course been carnage, Bolton men and Karstark men were outnumbered by a considerably margin and Willam knew more about warfare than Arnolf and Roose Bolton and so used that to his advantage. Arnolf Karstark and his sons and grandsons were dead, Roose had been caught and imprisoned in a cell for when the king arrived, and those Freys that had remained with them in Winterfell had been butchered.

The king had come to Winterfell triumphant, carrying Ramsay Snow’s severed head on a spike as he rode into the castle Willam had had the pleasure of greeting him and handing Winterfell over to his possession. There had been much celebrating and feasting following that and Willam had been so very happy to be reunited with his son Roddy. It had been a very nervous few months for him as he had planned and plotted and fought for the King. The king had been crowned in the godswood, with all the lords present, presented with a crown of bronze and iron just as his ancestors had worn, and he had looked every inch a king then, magnificent and proud as the crown was placed atop his head. Many other things had come to pass as well in the time since Jon Stark had retaken Winterfell, Roose Bolton had been executed his guts pulled out and draped over the heart tree in the godswood, his son’s head mounted on a branch of the heart tree for the crows and those Bolton men that did not bend were executed and tortured. Willam’s son Roddy had been confirmed as Lord of the Dreadfort by the King and had been married to Bolton’s daughter Romhilda, a fierce girl. Those Freys taken captive during the battle were executed, and Willam was glad to see them die. Much had been done in the short time since the king had returned to Winterfell, but there was still much to do. And that was why the King had called a meeting.

The king looked tired, but determined as he spoke. “My lords and lady, I thank you all for coming. I thank you all for, what you have done for my family. I would not be sitting here were it not for you all. And for that you have my eternal gratitude. And yet the job is not done. There is still an enemy left for us to fight. The Ironborn sit in Torrhen’s Square, no doubt they have heard of what has gone on here, and plan to leave. We cannot allow that to happen. The Ironborn allowed Roose Bolton to take control of the north and as such they must be punished. I have Asha Greyjoy a prisoner, and I intend to use her as a tool to get the Tallharts freed. Once they are released we shall allow the Ironborn a chance to return to their ships before they are hunted down and killed.”

There are grunts of approval and Willam asks. “Do you know where their ships are docked Your Grace?”

“I believe they are stationed near the closest estuary of the Saltspear to Torrhen’s Square my lord. Why what are you thinking?” the king replies.

Willam considers for a moment and then says. “Why not send a small host on a forced march toward the Saltspear where that host can burn their ships before the Ironborn ever learn of your march. If it were to be either myself or my goodfather, it would look as if we were merely returning home. The Ironborn in command of the square is not the brightest. He will not know what is to come, but will more than likely will have men looking to guard his ships. We can use that and kill the men guarding his ships allowing you a chance to exchange prisoners and leave him trapped.”

The king looks thoughtful for a moment and then nods. “A good plan my lord.”

“A good plan, but what is there to stop Dagmar Cleftjaw from killing the Tallharts the moment he learns that there are men returning to Barrowton?” Cley Cerwyn asks.

At this the king smiles and says. “Asha Greyjoy has told me much and more during our conversations. The Cleftjaw sees her as a daughter and will do anything he can to ensure she is safe and sound. He is not so big a fool as to kill the only leverage he has for her safe return. He will be wary that is true, but I am sure Lord Willam can deal with any men he puts on his ships.”

Willam nods. “It will be a small matter of riding quickly with a small group of men, a dozen or so, and dealing with what little force guard their ships. They will be confident of ensuring safe passage. They will think nothing of allowing for little guard on their ships. And that will be their mistake.”

“How can you be sure of that?” Cerwyn asks. “They are Ironborn, surely they will want their ships guarded to the best of their ability.”

“They have also held the square for nearly two years now. They will have become lax and as such will not be expecting a direct attack on their ships what with them still holding the Tallharts hostage.” Willam replies.

Cerwyn still looks unsure but says nothing as the king speaks. “Lord Willam is correct. The Ironborn are arrogant and over confident they will believe their strength lies in the hostages. That will be their downfall.” There are murmurs of approval and then the king speaks once more. “Now, how does Lord Manderly fair? I hear he took quite a wound during his little argument with the Freys.”

Silence for a moment and then Willam speaks. “He is fairing okay, Your Grace. There are good days and then there are bad days for him. Whether he makes it or not depends entirely on the man himself.”

“I do hope he decides to continue living. I owe the man much and more. The fact that my brother has returned from the wilderness is the biggest thanks I owe him. And of course the girl Shireen and Ser Davos’s son Devan will remain as our guests until such time it is safe for Rickon to come to Winterfell.” There are murmurs of approval at that.

“What happened to Stannis Your Grace?” Rodrik Ryswell, Willam’s goodfather asks. “The man was something of a tool we could use as we march south if indeed we do march south.”

The king smiles then. “Baratheon is dead. The man was a heathen, his death will serve as a reminder to those of his men thinking of fighting for Shireen, of what happens to those that try to make the north subservient. We were on our knees for three hundred years or there abouts, we will never bend again. If we march south, we do so to conquer and kill, nothing more and nothing less.”

Willam voices his approval. “A good stance. For too long has the south dictated terms to us. We are stronger and bigger than most of them apart from the Reach. Should we march south Your Grace, I suggest setting an example. Of course with winter here we shall need to consider consolidating our food and people. We cannot die now, not when this winter looks to be the longest in living memory.”

There are murmurs then. “We have brought the food in, our people are safe. The men hunger for more though Your Grace. They hunger for vengeance. We have broken every single enemy that faces the north in the north. Once the square is ours the north will be secure once more. I say it is time we go south and burn it. Burn it as they burned us.” Mors Umber bellows.

“The lions need to be taught a lesson. Them and the fucking roses as well. I want lion blood for my son.” Hothar Umber says.

“And the moment we march south, there will be a mass culling of prisoners. The Freys hold many northmen from the Red wedding, surely that must be a consideration.” Willam’s goodfather says.

“Actually my lord, if everything goes according to plan they will not. The Kingslayer had all those prisoners taken at the Red Wedding sent toward King’s Landing. They will be leaving soon enough if they have not already left. There is a party of northmen waiting for them, the group escorting the prisoners shall be attacked and the prisoners will be freed. There will be no need for worry.” Willam replies.

“How do you know this my lord?” the king asks sounding impressed.

“I have my sources my king. I know a black fish who has control over the resistance in the riverlands, waiting for you to come down as well.” Willam replies.

The king smiles once more. “Then once the north is secure we shall march for the riverlands. And this time when the Lannisters are forced to their knees they shall not get back up.”

There is a lot of cheering and banging of fists on tables at this and once the noise has died down Willam speaks once more. “As you know Your Grace, the girl that Ramsay Snow was supposed to marry was not your sister, she was not Princess Arya but someone else, and as a way to make it easier for you to return to your throne she died on the way to Winterfell. This was something of a burden for us all, but Bolton did not hesitate to get in contact with his contacts in the south. He meant for his bastard to marry your sister the Princess Sansa.”

“Sansa married Tyrion Lannister though.” The king says instantly.

“Exactly, and yet Bolton believed the imp to be dead, and so the marriage could go ahead. Your sister was to come north with some men of the Vale including Petyr Baelish, a Lannister man through and through. Working with the men from the Vale who came with them, I managed to ensure that when Baelish and your sister arrived in the north, Baelish was arrested and Princess Sansa was brought to White Harbour.” Willam says.

There is silence then and then after a moment the king says his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you my lord. I do not know how to thank you enough for what you have done but thank you. I will not forget the service you have done for my family. Once the Ironborn have been dealt with, my brother and sister shall return to Winterfell. Now my lord, has there been any word on my other sister Arya? Do you know where she is?”

Willam bows his head. “Unfortunately not. I have been unable to locate her. But I will keep trying my king. And you shall be the first to know when I find anything out.”

The king nods, and then someone else asks. “Now my king, I do not mean to pry, but you have just reclaimed Winterfell, we cannot have the succession thrown into confusion. You must marry and soon.”

There is a moment’s silence and then the king says. “I can think of no one more loyal or true than a Dustin to marry. My lord, you have a daughter do you not? Bethany?” Willam nods. “Then I shall marry her. It is time you were recognised for the valuable service you have given my family.”

 


	26. My Lady, My Princess

**8 th Month of 300 A.C. Winterfell**

**Princess Sansa Stark**

It was strange now she thought of it, strange to think that she had thought she knew Harrold Hardying. That she knew him as this oaf, this man who reminded her far too much of Robert Baratheon, a drunken oaf who only liked to fuck and fight. That there was nothing more to him. And yet now, now after all this time she was seeing a new side to him. Harry had explained some of what had been going on during her time in the Vale, of how the lords declarant knew that it was her who had been masquerading as Littlefinger’s daughter, and how they wanted to get her away from him but did not know how. Of how Harry had been given the role of getting to know her, of playing on his reputation of being a womanizer to keep things on check. She had somewhat understood why they had done what they had done, but she did wish that he could have told her beforehand. Before he had seen her in that state on the Black Betha, broken and alone. He had been kind to her, he had been nice to her and she found she enjoyed his company. He reminded her somewhat of a knight from one of the songs she used to love as a little girl, and despite her trying to remind herself that the songs were not real, she could not but help wish they were. She liked Harry and he liked her, and yet there was too much in the way for them to truly get to know one another now as they were in the present.

One of those things was her little brother Rickon. She had been amazed to discover Rickon alive and well in White Harbour. It appeared the deception by the Boltons had gone on for far longer than anyone had first thought. Her brother had spent the past year on Skaagos, becoming almost like some half wildling child. The only thing preventing that was Osha, the wildling that had been captured some two years ago now. She had been a mother figure to her brother for some time, and was the reason why her brother had not completely forgotten her. At first he had thought her to be their mother, but mother was dead, and Sansa had felt guilty breaking that illusion. Her little brother had cried and sobbed, and moaned and not spoken to her for a long time, until eventually he had.  She suspected that she had Osha to thank for that. Ever since then, her brother had stuck to her like a shadow, and though it made it difficult to talk to Harry she did not mind all that much. Sansa quite liked having her brother with her after all this time, and she truly wanted to get to know him. He was a fierce little boy who cared deeply for very few people and who was terrified of losing anyone else. She could understand that and she stuck close to him, even if she envied him Shaggydog.

News had reached White Harbour of Jon’s victory against the Boltons at Winterfell and word had come asking for them to come to Winterfell, and so after much coercion and planning, Sansa and her brother had set off from White Harbour with Ser Wylis Manderly and some five hundred men from White Harbour. They had travelled through snow and ice, winter truly was here it seemed, and all the while Sansa’s heart had been hammering in her chest, filled with anticipation and fear over what she would see in Winterfell, it had been ruined by the Boltons, but her brother and his men had been rebuilding it slowly and steadily. She was also filled with anticipation at seeing Jon once more, she had never truly known her brother before they had gone their separate ways and she so desperately hoped to sort that out. She wanted to be a good sister to him, she truly did. The journey to Winterfell, had also seen her telling Rickon about their home and about Jon. He remembered bits and pieces of both but not everything and that saddened her.  He was so young and yet had lost so much already, they all had. Sansa was determined to never let such a thing happen again.

They had arrived back in Winterfell some two days ago, Littlefinger dragged along as a prisoner despite his rants and pleas. She and her brother had been welcomed back like royalty- which she belatedly remembered they were- Jon had been there to greet them, looking tall, proud and handsome as a king should. They had embraced and talked and there had been a great feast to celebrate their return. Sansa was happy to be home and even happier that Rickon and Jon seemed to get on well with one another as well. Rickon had stuck to Jon for the past few days, peppering him with questions about this, that and the other, and Sansa had been thrilled with that. Her brothers were getting along just fine, and that pleased her. It also meant she had had some time to spend with Harry. They had talked about small things, and about big things, about everything. Sansa found that she was growing to like Harry, he was not as stupid or oafish as she had first thought, and yet there was a part of her that was wary of him. He had acted a role, and she was not sure whether he was being genuine now or not. And so she kept one part of herself away from him and the other part only partially revealed. Something she had learned to do well as Alayne Stone. Now that she thought about it, she was not sure whether she ever wanted to leave the north again, so many bad things had happened since she had left the north all those years ago and she was not sure she ever wanted to leave home again.

That was why she was so nervous now, Jon had asked to speak with her, and she suspected she knew what this conversation was going to be about. As a princess she had value, she could be used to further strengthen ties between Jon and the other northern lords, or win alliances in the south. She had arguments on the tip of her tongue when Jon spoke. “How have you been doing Sansa? I know it must be hard for you, considering the time it has been since you were last here.”

Momentarily thrown by the question, Sansa is silent as she tries to think of what to say, an answer that will please her brother, and that is when she realises that she does not need to. Her brother is not Petyr Baelish, she does not have to phrase her words in such a way to please him, she can tell him the truth. She takes a deep breath and then replies. “It is good to be home Your Grace, truly it is. It does feel a bit strange though, the castle looks different, but it still feels like home.”

Her brother grimaces slightly and she wonders what she has said wrong. “Please Sansa we are brother and sister. Call me Jon.”

Sansa blushes slightly. “Yes, my apologies Your…. Jon.”

Her brother smiles at her then and asks. “I trust everything has been to your liking so far? I know the castle is not what it used to be, but rebuilding will be done by the end of the moon so Lord Willam tells me. Hopefully it will be a good home for us all in the years to come.”

“It is more than I expected Jon. I am surprised it has been rebuilt so quickly. I thought it would still be half a ruin.” Sansa replies truthfully.

Her brother nods. “Truly we owe Lord Willam a great deal of thanks for that. He sent men here to do the job before Roose Bolton or myself had left our respective places. He has been doing a lot to ensure that we got back to Winterfell safe and sound, and that there was a Winterfell for us to come back to.”

Sansa nods. “He truly has taken his oath seriously. Father did always like him. And I suppose it helps that his sons are good friends with you. It makes it easier to fight for someone you know.”

“True, very true. Which is why I am so surprised the Boltons lasted for as long as they did. They lost more support than they gained over the years. Truly we should have gotten rid of them the last time they rebelled.” Her brother says.

Sansa considers this a moment and then says. “But then there would not have been a power to keep our family in check. That was why they were spared, that and the fact that we are kin no matter how many generations removed. Besides keeping them on meant lesser lords could not come to power. People like Ironsmith and Waterman would be far worse than Bolton. Even the Whitehills would be.”

Her brother nods. “That is true. Sometimes I think the Whitehills are more dangerous than anyone else. They are grasping and they have been Bolton bannermen for so very long now, I think they have forgotten what it means to be their own men. There is something dangerous about them, and I do not like it.”

“What do you plan on doing about them?” Sansa asks.

Her brother runs a hand through his hair and replies. “I do not know. But whatever I do, there will be a hole in the north that will need to be filled.”

Sansa nods. “There always will be. And with Arnolf Karstark and his descendants dead, Alys is essentially Lady of Karhold until her brother comes back. Do you know whom you are going to marry her to?”

Her brother looks somewhat surprised at this turn in conversation but replies. “I have not thought about it truth be told. Harrion is alive, and I know he will be back north soon enough. I was going to leave it to him, but now that I think on it, perhaps it would be best to consider marriages for her.”

“That would be wise.” Sansa replies using her knowledge of the northern lords to good use. “Though they might not seem it, these lords will want to get the most out of the spoils of war. And Alys Karstark is a big spoil right now. Marrying her to an Umber or to a Dustin might do the trick. You want her married to someone who is unquestionably loyal to you, and will not make a play should Harrion survive. But will also rule wisely, should Harrion die.”

Her brother looks impressed. “When did you learn all of this Sansa? This is certainly a change from the girl I remember.”

She does not smile at him. “I had to learn all of this. Petyr Baelish made sure I knew all of this, otherwise he would not be happy, and when he was not happy I suffered. I also had to learn how to read people when I was in King’s Landing otherwise my life would be much harder than it was.”

Her brother grimaces then. “Baelish. The man has such much and more since he arrived here. He speaks lies about you and the things he and you have done. I know that, but I wanted to know what you want done with him?”

Sansa shivers thinking of Baelish’s breath on her neck, the smell of mint. She looks her brother straight in the eye then and responds. “I want him dead. I want him killed for what he has done Jon.”

Her brother is silent and then says. “Then he will die Sansa. He will die for the crimes he has committed against you and our family. And what of Harrold Hardying?”

Another question that takes her back somewhat. “What about Harry?”

“I want to know what you want from him. I know you two have been speaking, and I know what he has done for you. I want to know whether you have thought of what you want from him. Do you want to be friends with him? Do you want to marry him? What do you wish?” her brother asks bluntly.

Sansa is silent for a long time then considering all of this and then she replies. “I do not know Jon, truly I do not know.”

 

 


	27. Rescue

**9 th Month of 300 A.C. Riverlands**

**Ser Brynden Tully**

It had all come down to this, moons of planning and sleepless nights and now the final day had come. The day when he made it up to Cat for not being there to protect her during her ordeal at the twins. When his king had fallen. He was going to make sure such a thing never befell his niece ever again. The Freys were leading their prisoners from the twins toward King’s Landing something that had been done on Ser Jaime Lannister’s orders. That Lannister was meant to meet them somewhere near Raventree Hall meant that Brynden and his men did not have all that much time, and so here they were, all prepared and ready to strike into action once Ser Kyle gave the sign. The waiting was always the hardest part, he had never liked waiting, and battle was always easier when you were in the heat of the moment.

And yet it seemed that today his heart and his head were joined in reminding him of what could happen should they fail in this attempt. Catelyn would likely be executed there and then, and the other prisoners would die in the attempt. His king would not appreciate that, and Brynden knew that this was going to be an important step in showing the man that they were loyal to his cause, that the riverlands had not forgotten the Young Wolf or the sacrifices he had made to ensure their freedom. Furthermore, Brynden was determined to prevent Cat from following back into enemy hands, his spies had reported on the treatment she had been getting at the Twins and every time he thought about that he dreamed of riding there and killing every single last Frey. That such things were allowed to happen just showed how depraved a monster Walder Frey truly was, well Brynden could be a monster if the mood so struck him.

A flashing beacon told him that their quarry was arriving, Brynden and his men got into position on the hill prepared to unleash all hell. He said a quick prayer to the seven asking for guidance and protection during the events that were about to unfold, and he hoped to go Cat got away unscathed. Once his prayers were done he looked down and saw the advancing quarry of riders and men and women in chains and let loose a terrifying howl and then galloped down toward the group. His men followed and his heart hammered in his chest, he knew the enemy was preparing to fire back but Lemoncloak and the northern archers were clearly awake despite the earliness of the hour and as Brynden saw arrows fly in the air he knew the Frey guards would be falling.

His heart was hammering in his chest as his horse came to the first part of the defence. His sword was out and ready for an attack before the man had a chance to draw his own sword in defence. Brynden swung left, then right and cut the man down to size. He moved on to the next man and the same thing happened. All the while his heart was hammering inside him waiting to be let out. He swung his sword over and over again, watching and feeling pleasure as more and more men fell to the ground either due to a lost limb or through death. His sword became the cleaver that removed men from the world. He had become death, the destroyer and he intended to use that power now to avenge those who had been wronged.

His sword arched through the air and cut one man after another down to the ground. His blood was pumping his body was filled with energy and there were still men coming toward him asking to die. Brynden knew that his men and the northmen were fighting the Freys, and were doing so because he had asked them to. And yet there was something in him today that just simply wanted to feel powerful for killing the enemy. He did not want to over complicate things by thinking about commands or about prisoners not right now that would come later. He was simply worried about ensuring that the man who came to fight him next died or was too wounded to keep fighting. A process that seemed to be working for him. There were bodies strewn across the ground where he had been and the enemy numbers were gradually reducing.

Still more men came, advancing toward them screaming their heads off. Brynden had taken a few nicks here and there and yet he was determined to keep pushing. He knew there would be a carriage somewhere in the midst of all of this savagery and he was determined to find it. He cut down one man, then another, all of whom seemed determined to see him brought low. He was better than them and yet they were half his age, Freys never the most marital of people to begin with were beginning to look like weakened weasels, and now that was a thought that filled him with a grim and savage pleasure. He rode on, making sure to check whether or not he was being followed. Surprisingly he was not, it seemed the Freys had underestimated him and his men once more. They would pay for that underestimation with their lives, and that mere thought filled him with savage pleasure.

After much searching and after being aware of a dull pain in his arms and chest where he had received some variation of blows and cuts, Brynden found the wheel house that he had been looking for. It was of course guarded, the most heavily guarded of all the things and people he had seen so far during the course of this battle. Brynden and any of his men that have followed him since battle began ride toward the wheelhouse and of course they get involved in a sword fight with the guards. Brynden has no problem shoving his sword into two of the men that stand right in front of the doors to the wheelhouse and as his men deal with the remaining men he opens the door with a great pull and is delighted to see his niece sat inside looking slightly worse for wear but healthy all the same. Before she can say anything he merely looks at her and grins. “Well it is nice to see you Little Cat.”


	28. Burn

**9 th Month of 300 A.C. Saltspear**

**Lord Willam Dustin**

The plan was set, it was simple really, luring the Ironborn into a false sense of security. The exchange of prisoners was an age old custom that most honoured, and considering Dagmer Cleftjaw and his men had been left alone in Torrhen’s Square for the better part of a year now, the fact that anyone actually remembered them was no doubt a surprise. Of course Willam knew as did the rest of the men fighting for the king that these Ironborn were not going to make it out alive. Their continued presence in the north was an insult to all those who had fought and died for the Young Wolf and alongside Rodrik Cassel. They were going to die and they were going to die far away from the salt of their homes. It was justice as far as Willam was concerned, for so very long the Ironborn had plagued the north with their constant raiding and pillaging and now they were going to be butchered one step at a time. Asha Greyjoy would die and with her the line of Balon would end as well, for the bastard of Bolton’s play thing was not a man let alone a Greyjoy. That the king had not killed him straight away showed that the king was waiting for something.

What that something was Willam did not know nor did he truly care. All he knew was that he had been right to put his faith in the king, the man knew right from wrong and knew what it was to be a Northman, something that the Young Wolf had at times forgotten in his quest to uphold his father’s code of honour. A code that had gotten him killed in the end. This king would not suffer such a thing, Willam knew, and the fact that the king was willing to do such a thing as the attack on the Ironborn showed just how true a Northman he was. Willam felt proud to be serving such a king and would willingly fight and die for him, as he knew his sons would. As he knew the whole of the north would.

His sons were back with him, Durin and Roderick, both of whom had experienced their own share of hardships over the course of the war. Durin having been a prisoner following the Red Wedding, had become a man Willam was proud of, he would make a fine Lord of Barrowton when his time came. And Roddy, Roddy was by virtue of his marriage to Romhilda Bolton Lord of the Dreadfort, their family was growing in power and influence, and Willam was happy about that. His sons were good men, honourable men as well. And they were skilled warriors, yes he was very confident that the future of House Dustin was secure. All they needed to do now was to remove the Ironborn, the last vestiges of the Ironborn from the north.

And that was about to begin, as Willam was the signal coming from near the square, he looked at Roddy and nodded. And his sons and their men began lighting the torches and throwing them onto the ships before them, Willam watched with rapt attention as the ships burned. The only chance the Ironborn had of escaping was quickly burning to ash. That thought filled him with glee, the Ironborn would not be able to escape and they would be butchered like the animals they were. He watched as the ships began to burn and as he smelt their burning he was reminded of what had happened during the Greyjoy rebellion of the deaths of so many good men and women. This was revenge, this was justice for all of that. For thousands of years of torment and torture, the Ironborn would pay.

The ships continued to burn and Willam and his men watched them with rapt attention, savouring the sight and the smells of the last vestige of Ironborn presence in the north went up in smoke. It was an intoxicating feeling knowing they were damaging the Ironborn at their home. This was good, this was enthralling, but Willam knew the job was not completely done yet. As the sound of men running and scampering and the sound of hooves filled the air, Willam was drawn from his reverie and he knew what needed to be done. He barked commands and as his men drew their eyes from the burning wreckage of the Ironborn ships, they began to form up ready and waiting for the Ironborn to come to them.

Ironborn such a pitiful race of people, barbarians and savages of a bygone era, Willam watches as they come scampering toward them, not a hope in sight. He knows they know they are done for and he waits until the last moment before he calls for his men to ride forward. It is time for the Ironborn to die, like the savages they are. He draws forth his sword and gallops into the mass of Ironborn. His sword swings from one direction to the next, cutting and slashing. Men fall to the ground breathing harshly their throats slit their arms cut off, and still more come. He swings and swings, and more and more of the men fall to their knees dying, screaming for people who will never hear them.

His sword sings through the air as he slashes and cuts. Men fall to their knees, their last image is of a Northman killing them and their kin. It is an intoxicating feeling this, this feeling of being the one to an end a life. It is something Willam has always tried very hard to keep under control, and so now, with the chance to let it out he does not hold back. He swings his sword with gay abandon and watches as men fall to the ground dead. The Ironborn are butchered to every last man and even the woman, Asha Greyjoy is killed as well, a spear shoved through her throat. The Ironborn of Torrhen’s Square are massacred down to the last, and Willam knows that the north has exacted its revenge on these foreign invaders.


	29. Lady Stoneheart

**9 th Month of 300 A.C. Somewhere**

**Lady Catelyn Stark**

Her brother’s wedding haunted her every waking hour, there was no rest from it. No rest from the sounds of the Rains of Castamere, or Walder Frey’s cackling, no rest from the sight of her boy, of Robb falling to his knees because Roose Bolton had killed him. A knife protruding from his stomach. The image of her little boy falling to his knees as the Freys laughed was something that would live with her for the rest of her live she knew it. She did not know why Walder Frey had kept her alive, but in that time she had been turned to stone. His brood had raped her and abused her, and yet it had not affected her, for such things could only affect the living and she was not sure she was alive anymore. She had turned her heart to stone, that her stomach not swollen with child was more a credit to Roslin and then Olyvar’s efforts to procure moon tea for her.

That her uncle had come and rescued her from further imprisonment was something she was not surprised about. Indeed she found that she was not surprised at all, her uncle was cunning and had many friends and allies around the riverlands. As such, as she looked at her uncle she knew or rather she suspected what he wished to speak with her about. “How are you feeling Cat?” her uncle asked his voice filled with concern.

Catelyn looks at her uncle for a long moment and then responds. “I do not know uncle. Truly I do not. Whilst I was in the twins I was subjected to the most horrible of torture and yet I survived. I survived because I knew that Jon was doing what he could to ensure that our family was avenged and now I am no longer a prisoner and I do not know what to do.”

Her uncle nodded sympathetically. “I take it Edmure’s wife and her brother were the ones telling you of events in the north then?”

Catelyn nods. “They told me what little they could, and even then it was mostly conjecture. I do not how much of what they said is true and how much is mere rumour.”

She looks at her uncle pleadingly then and he merely sighs. “Well I am sure they told you of the Dustins role in ensuring King Robb’s will got to the wall.” Catelyn nods Olyvar had told her that much. “Well from there, Jon Snow became Jon Stark and set out to reclaim the north with aid from the mountain clans and men from Cerwyn and Barrowton. They freed Deepwood Motte from the Ironborn and then fought off Stannis Baratheon. The man and his red witch are dead as far as I know whilst his daughter and wife are prisoners. From there Jon moved onto Winterfell where a fierce battle was fought between his forces and those of Roose Bolton. Needless to say Bolton and his bastard are now both dead and rotting in the ground. And your son’s brother sits in Winterfell ruling.”

“That is good. Very good. I always knew Jon would be capable. I might have argued with Robb about the decision at the time but it seems he was right. As he was about most things concerning our family. And yet there were some things where he erred. Trusting Theon Greyjoy being one of those mistakes that cost us.” Catelyn replies. Grief colouring her words.

Her uncle looks at her a moment and then asks her. “Whilst you were in the twins did you ever hear of Walder Frey receiving correspondence from the north?”

Catelyn is silent a moment at she considers her uncle and then replies. “Yes, I did. The servants and even some of the people who were Freys were awfully loose lipped around me for some strange reason.”

“What did they say to you Cat?” her uncle asks.

“They kept saying that there was more to what was happening at Winterfell than met the eye. And that was something I could never truly understand. It was as if they were taunting me with information but never quite revealing it. Even Olyvar did not know what they were speaking of. Do you?” she replies looking at her uncle pleadingly.

Her uncle swallows and looks uncomfortable. “I had heard rumours that Bolton meant to marry his bastard to your daughter Arya.”

Catelyn looks at her uncle in shocked disbelief. “Arya? But how? How is that possible? Arya has been missing since Ned was arrested in King’s Landing, how is it possible that the Boltons found her when we could not?”

Her uncle shifts uncomfortably in his seat and then says softly. “I do not think it was ever Arya they had Cat. I think it was some fake, some girl who they thought looked like Arya whom they intended to use to force the northern lords into accepting their rule over the north. The girl died before the wedding could ever take place though. Killed whilst riding to Winterfell.”

Catelyn breathes a sigh of relief then, but at the same time feels a pang as she thinks of the poor girl who was killed to thwart Bolton plans. “Who was the girl uncle? And how do you know so much?”

Her uncle does not reply immediately and at first she wonders if he has heard her question. Eventually though he clears his throat and says softly. “Willam Dustin. He has been communicating with myself and Ronnel Stout through one way or the other throughout the course of all of this. I do not truly understand how he has been doing it, but he has. Letters and snippets of information have come from him over the course of the past few moons all of which add up to what has been happening in Winterfell and the north.”

Catelyn nods, she knows that if Willam Dustin is involved there will likely be some sort of strange and mystical explanation. She had once asked Ned about it, but all her husband had been able to tell her was that Lord Willam was a man of many different talents, most of which her husband had not truly understood. One thing had always been clear though, Willam Dustin was and always has been fiercely loyal to the Starks and her husband and their children in particular. She looks at her uncle and sees he is looking at her intently as if expecting her to reply to what he has just said. All she does is smile and say simply. “I believe you uncle. If it was Lord Willam who was speaking to you then you have likely received the correct information. But tell me, how did you know that I and the other prisoners would be moved from the twins today?”

At this her uncle smiles and it is a sly thing. “I have my means little Cat. The brotherhood and the northmen who are here helped. We have been killing Freys for information and it seems they have a lot to say. The Kingslayer wanted you all moved from the Twins to King’s Landing. It seemed his father wanted you in particular. No doubt as some sort of move to try and settle the north. And of course I just had to end that little game of his.”

Catelyn smiles at her uncle in gratitude and then asks. “What of Riverrun and Edmure? Did he truly surrender the castle? Is he truly going to Casterly Rock?”

At this her uncle smiles once more. “Oh he did surrender the castle but it will not belong to Emmon Frey for very long. The king is marching from Winterfell soon, and we shall march northward to destroy the twins and tear it down brick by brick. From there we shall move on Riverrun and kill every last Frey that sits in Riverrun. Furthermore, your brother is not going to Casterly Rock, Daven Lannister has named himself King of the Rock and as such has kept your brother in the Golden Tooth. It seems that should we offer the man a chance to kill his cousins then he will be more than happy to give us your brother back.”

Catelyn is stunned by this. “You mean Tywin Lannister does not have a complete hold over the Westerlands anymore?”

Her uncle smiles, grins more like. “Oh indeed it would appear so. It would seem the man’s desire to insert himself into the power in King’s Landing has deeply alienated his men in the west. Daven Lannister being the only man brave enough to stand up to Tywin has been declared king and has rallied the support of the Westerlords. And with the Reach under attack from Ironborn it would seem that there is not much the man can do apart from try and negotiate.”

Catelyn smiles then. “That is good very good. And with Jon coming down from the south, Tywin will have nowhere to turn to. It is time for him to be completely removed. Will Lysa send aid?”

At this her uncle’s face saddens. “Lysa is dead Cat. Killed by Petyr Baelish. Thrown from the moon door when she tried to kill your daughter Sansa.”

Catelyn is stunned. “Lysa is dead? She tried to kill Sansa? How did Sansa get to the Vale?”

Her uncle takes a deep breath and replies. “Petyr smuggled her from King’s Landing the day Joffrey Baratheon died. No doubt he thought he was doing us a favour by doing so and yet he failed to do anything but anger Lysa and her lords. She was jealous of Sansa and suffered some grim fate for it. As for Baelish he tried to take Sansa north to wed the bastard of Bolton and failed. He was imprisoned at White Harbour and as such now awaits judgement.”

Catelyn feels her head spinning as she processes all the news that she has just received. She does not fully understand it all, but there is one piece of information that stands out. “Petyr tried to marry off my daughter to Bolton’s bastard?” she asks fury growing inside her. Her uncle nods. “What made him think he had the right to do this?”

Her uncle is silent a moment and then replies. “The fact that through his marriage to Lysa he was the last living family Sansa had that is what. And the fact that Tyrion Lannister is supposedly dead as well. The man was trying to use her for his own ends. He of course suffered for his ways and means.”

Catelyn sighs. Her head is reeling at all of this new information that she now has to process. Her daughter was married off to the imp she knows this, but that her childhood friend tried to marry her daughter off to a monster, that, that angers her. Of course she wonders whether Baelish was ever truly her friend and not just someone who was lusting after someone above his station. Anger and despair float through her mind as she thinks of her little girl, she should be safe now if she is in the north and Baelish is in chains she looks at her uncle and merely raises her eyebrows in question.

Thankfully her uncle knows what she wants to know merely through her raised eyebrows. “Yes, Sansa is in Winterfell. She rode there with men from the Vale, men loyal to Bronze Yohn Royce. And as such Baelish is either in chains or is dead by now. Whatever else your daughter is safe little Cat.”

Cat nods, and though she is still deeply worried for her daughter she asks the one other thing that is on her mind. _Jaime Lannister sends his regards._  
“What of Jaime Lannister? You mentioned him briefly before. What became of him uncle?”

Her uncle does not smile but merely says. “Dead. He and his men were killed by Blackwood and Bracken men when he went to Raventree hall. His head is on its way back to King’s Landing as a message to Tywin Lannister.”

 _Jaime Lannister sends his regards. Jaime Lannister is dead, they are all dead._ “Good.” Catelyn says simply, her hands curled into fists at her sides.


	30. A Wedding

****

**10 th Month of 300 A.C. Winterfell**

**King Jon II Stark**

It was done, the Ironborn were gone from the north. The mess that had started because his brother had allowed Theon Greyjoy to leave his sights was now finally settled. It was a huge relief to Jon, truth be told, it was a weight from his shoulders, something that he now no longer needed to think about or worry about. There would be no more Ironborn presence in the north for a long time. That thought had allowed Jon to cover ground with his sisters and brother. There was so much he still did not know of what Sansa and Arya had done since he had last seen them, the mere fact Arya was alive and well was a blessing as far as he was concerned, and he owed it to Tyrion and Lady Brienne for that. He owed them a huge debt, one that would likely never be repaid. It was something he was willing to allow, for the joy of having his family back together. The only thing that was missing was Lady Catelyn, and his heart ached to think of her stuck in the Twins or worse in King’s Landing, he truly hoped Ser Brynden had been successful in getting her from that caravan.

Of course, all of that was secondary to what was happening today. It was his wedding, he was actually getting married. The thought was somewhat strange to him, he had never thought he would ever get married. He had always thought he would remain a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch, and father no children and take no wives. And yet that had changed. His wife was one of the most beautiful women in the north of that he had no doubt. Bethany was tall, with raven hair and dark brown eyes, the eyes were enchanting and Jon swore he could get lost in them. She was also quick witted and glib of tongue. Jon was sure that they would make a fine couple. He hoped they would. As he stood there watching her come toward him arm in arm with her father his most loyal lord, he felt a flutter of nerves in his chest. As she stopped before him he called out. “Who comes before the heart tree?”

“Lady Bethany of the House Dustin, a maiden pure and true. Who claims her?” Lord Willam replied in his deep and booming voice.

Jon felt nerves flutter in his stomach before he replied. “I do. Jon of the House Stark, son of Eddard Stark and King of the North.”

Lord Willam nods and walks forward, Bethany on his arm, she smiles at him and Jon feels his heart do an odd sort of skip then. They both come to stand before the heart tree whilst Lord Willam walks forward then and takes the place of the man who would traditionally do the ceremony. His voice booms loud and clear throughout the godswood. “We are gathered here today in this most holy of places to witness the union of two souls pure of heart and noble of blood. His Grace King Jon Stark will be wed to Lady Bethany Dustin. They are of noble lineage and are a good and fit match. If there is anyone here who wishes for this ceremony not to go forward let them speak now.” There is a moment silence and when it becomes apparent that no one is going to speak Lord Willam continues. “My King, my lady if you would hold hands.”

Jon looks at his betrothed and smiles nervously at her. She takes his hand and smiles back. Lord Willam pulls a string from his pocket then and ties it round their clasped hands. “You are both now bonded in marriage. Do you both swear to protect and love one another? To keep one another’s secrets and to offer fair counsel when asked?”

“I do.” They both reply.

“And do you swear to never break these most sacred of oaths that have been sworn before the heart tree. Do you acknowledge that to break these oaths is a most heinous crime?” Lord Willam replies.

“I do.” They both reply.

“Then look to one another now and make this marriage complete.” Lord Willam replies.

Jon turns to look at his wife, and leans forward and nervously presses his lips to hers. She kisses him back and the kiss is far too brief for his liking, and though he swears he groans in protest as they break contact he does not look at Bethany to see if she heard. Instead he listens to the cheers of his lords and family at the scene. He looks at Bethany and smiles at her and is relieved to see her smile back at him. He gives her his arm and together they walk back toward the castle. As they walk back Jon asks her. “You are not cold my lady?”

“No my king I am not. But please call me Bethany. We are married now. There is no need for formalities.” His wife replies.

Jon smiles at her and says. “Well then I insist that you call me Jon Bethany.”

She smiles back at him and says. “Very well then Jon. So tell me what sort of things do you have planned for us today?”

By the gods she is beautiful, truly beautiful with her flushed cheeks and dimples when she smiles. His response is soft. “There is to be a feast of course, and dancing. Sansa arranged all of that. I….I do not truly have a complete hold on such things.”

His wife nods in understanding. “That does make sense after all you are a warrior. But of course that is something that could change with time. Now that the north is secure after all. And once the south has been shown our revenge we shall have all the time in the world to get to know one another properly.”

Jon looks at her then and says. “I would like that Bethany. I would like that a lot.”

They enter the great hall and sit down at the High table with Bethany’s family as well as Sansa, Arya and Rickon. Jon feels happy, happier than he has done for a long time. He feels safe and content, and though he knows that there is more fighting to come for the moment he can put all of that aside and merely enjoy the festivities. As the food is served, Jon takes a bite and gives some choice morsels to his wife, and looks at her as she eats, yes he is very much a happy man. “So tell me my queen, what do you make of the food so far?” Jon asks his wife a smile on his face.

Bethany makes a very pleased face then and Jon feels something within him stir at the sight of it. “Ooooooh, it is very nice. Very nice indeed. How did you know that I liked roast chicken Jon?”

Jon blushes then and says. “Actually it was Sansa who told me about it. She remembered from that time when you had all come here for the feast for my father’s nameday.”

His wife smiles. “Ah yes, well thank you Sansa.”

His sister smiles as well. “It was no trouble whatsoever my queen. After all Jon was too busy worrying about his clothes to think about the food, and so I thought I might help out as well.”

His wife nods. “And tell me Sansa, I have been hearing that a certain knight from the Vale has caught your eye? We are sisters now after all please do tell me is it true?”

Jon laughs slightly to see the blush on Sansa’s cheeks. “Harry? Oh there is nothing there. We are just friends is all.”

Arya snorts. “That is not what you told me Sansa.”

“Arya stop it.” Sansa says hitting their sister playfully.

Feigning an expression of mock concern Jon asks. “Oh? And what is this that Arya is talking about Sansa? Do not lie to me, I am your king sweet sister.”

His sister blushes something fierce then and says. “I do not know what you mean brother. I and Ser Harry are merely friends.”

Jon quirks his eyebrows at her, whilst Bethany swats his arm. “Oh do leave Sansa be Jon. If she does not wish to tell us about the blossoming romance between herself and the Young Falcon that is her decision.”

Sansa blushes fiercely, and Jon laughs as does Bethany. “Ach, it is alright Sansa, whatever you decide I am sure it will be for the best. But what about you Arya? What is this I have been hearing of you and a Ser Podrick Payne?” Jon asks.

Arya merely grimaces as they all look down at the table below where their guests, or rather Arya’s travelling companions are stationed. “Nothing. He is merely a friend stupid.”

Jon looks at his sister somewhat knowingly, but turns his attention back to his wife and says. “So tell me Bethany, what do you wish to do on the morrow once all this feasting has ended?”

His wife smiles a cat like smile then that stirs something inside of him. Her voice is sly when she replies. “Oh, I do not know my king. Perhaps you could take me of a tour round our home? We could see the godswood, and perhaps go for a ride. I do like riding.”

Jon nods and then says. “I am sure such a thing could be arranged my queen. After all there is nothing that is unavailable to the king and queen of the north. Perhaps we could even go for a ride on one of the horses your grandfather provided as a gift?”

“I would like that a lot my king. I would like that a lot.” His wife replies, her hand moving up his leg.

Jon’s breathing increases, but before he can say anything, Smalljon Umber stands up and bellows. “I believe that it is time for the bedding my king, my queen. It would not be a wedding without one.”

A cry goes up then for the bedding and Jon stands as does Bethany and together they gracefully accept the inevitable. Or rather they try to accept it as gracefully as one can accept such a thing. Jon feels himself being picked up and as he hears the girls and ladies of the north babbling away and making japes, Jon allows himself to think of Bethany and as he feels himself grow slightly hard, he wonders what she will feel like above him and below him. The japes begin getting more and more crude, and Jon gives back as good as he gets, but truth be told, he just wants to get this over with so that he can see his wife and he can experience something new with her.

Eventually he is put down in front of his room, and shoved inside the room. His wife is standing bear of anything, as is he but his breeches. He looks at her and says. “Are you cold my lady?”

His wife turns round and, he begins to harden at the sight of her breasts. “Aye, but I will not be in a moment.”

Taking the hint, Jon walks towards and wraps her in his embrace. He purrs into her ear. “And what about now?”

His wife rubs her hands up and down his chest, and Jon feels himself warm up at her touch. “Most definitely my king.” She purrs back.

Jon smiles and begins kissing her. “Then shall we move to the bed my queen?” he asks between kisses.

His wife kisses back and her lips are swollen when she replies. “I believe we should my king. After all we do have a duty to do, do we not?”

Jon smiles wolfishly and lifts his wife up, as she wraps her legs around him instinctively they move to the bed still kissing, and Jon knows that tonight will be one of the best nights of his life. He kisses his way down her neck and her chest, and begins lathing at her breasts, when he hears his wife pant. “Your breeches Jon, remove your breeches.” Jon stops kissing her for a moment, and keeping his eyes on her he moves his hands down to his breeches and removes them quickly before moving his way back up her body.


	31. A Southern Winter

**10 th Month of 300 A.C. Winterfell**

**Princess Sansa Stark**

Winterfell was bustling with activity once more, her brother was preparing to march south to war once more. There was a part of Sansa that was worried about that, she had lost one brother to the south before, she did not want to lose another. At the same time, so many things were different now, Jon was married, Arya and Rickon were back and were safe, and of course there were the guards who had come with her sister. Ser Bronn of the Blackwater who she knew, as well as Sandor whom she did not know what to make of, and Lady Brienne who was fiercely committed to their cause. They were all good people and brilliant fights and whilst Ser Bronn and Lady Brienne were going south with her brother, Jon has insisted that Sandor remain behind, and whilst she appreciates the thought, she is not sure what she makes of it. Sandor has only become gruffer and cruder since she last saw him, she is not scared of him, not anymore but he does worry her. As for her husband, or former husband, Tyrion had insisted that their marriage end, he had no desire to consummate it or force himself on her and so Jon as king had declared it null and void, a good thing she supposed but it was still a part of her life she never wished to think on.

As it was now, she did not want to think about any of the worries or concerns that might well come back to plague her. Instead she wanted to spend time with Harry before he left. Harry was a different person to how he had been in the Vale, he was more courteous and charming than he had been, and there was a side to him that was caring and considerate. She was still not sure what to make of him, but she no longer feared him as she had done at first. And as such as they walked through the grounds of Winterfell arm in arm she was content to merely walk in silence. Harry of course clearly had something on his mind for he was the one who spoke first. “I will miss you when I am gone my princess.”

“And I will miss you as well Ser Harry. But you have decided to march south and there is not much more we can do about that. Unless you wish to remain here with me?” Sansa asks trying to keep her voice from sounding too hopeful.

Harry laughs slightly and looks at her. “I wish I could princess, but I have a duty to go south with your brother the king. I must do this, the Lannisters cannot be allowed to retain control in the south. For if they do they will only continue to possess a threat towards the north and to the Vale. For them to never return to the power they once were they must be broken now.”

Sansa takes a deep breath and asks. “But why? Why must you go south? I can understand the northern lords going south, but why you? You do not have an army with you? Bronze Yohn Royce has too much to sort out in the Vale to truly commit to fighting now.”

Harry sighs then. “Aye that is true, but once Lord Yohn has settled matters in the Vale he will be able to come and fight. And as Robert’s representative here I must do my duty. The Vale and the North are allies, and I must ensure that that alliance does not fall through.”

“But why must it be you who goes south and not someone else?” Sansa asks, probing wanting to see what he says.

Harry sighs once more. “Because, I am a member of the winged knights, I am its commander, and until such time as King Robert is of an age to fight, I must be his representative wherever duty calls. That is why my princess. I do not like it any more than you do. But I must do it, for it is my duty.”

Sansa stops walking then and looks at him, her breathing is coming slowly despite the quickening of her heart. She looks at her knight and says. “Be safe when you go south. Please try not to do anything stupid Harry. I could not bear the thought of never seeing you again. Truly I could not.”

Harry’s face softens then. “I know my princess. And I will do all I can to come back to you whole and handsome as always.” He grins then. “But before I go if I might ask for one small favour from you?”

Sansa feels her heart quicken as she begins to guess what it is her knight wants from her. “Anything. What do you wish for me to do?”

Harry is silent a moment and then he leans forward and whispers. “A kiss from a maiden as fair as you would be more than enough good luck for me. It would keep me brave during the cold winter nights knowing that you are waiting for me.”

Despite telling herself that she is not a little girl anymore, Sansa’s heart flutters at his words and she leans forward pressing her forehead to his and she whispers. “I believe I could do that for you.”

She presses her lips to his and hums in contentment at how soft they feel, of how right this feels. She and Harry, they are right together, Sansa truly believes it. She might not be entirely sure what to make of him, but she knows he makes her feel safe. Safe in a way only someone you care about can. They kiss and kiss and when they pull apart their lips are both swollen and they are both breathing heavily. Harry is smiling and Sansa knows she is as well. “Thank you for that my princess. I know I will feel much braver now that I know you will be waiting for me.”

Sansa smiles at him and replies. “Just come back to me. I don’t want to be waiting for too long.”

“I promise I will return as soon as I can my princess.” Harry says before taking her arm and together they walk back to the courtyard where the men are saying goodbye to their loved ones. Jon is saying goodbye to his wife and to Rickon and Arya when they arrive.

Sansa lets go of Harry’s arm then and hugs her brother. “Be safe.” She whispers into his ear.

“I will,” he whispers back. “I will also make sure Harry is safe.”

“Thank you.” She replies.

They pull apart and Sansa allows Jon to say goodbye to Arya, Rickon clings to her skirts then as Harry comes to say goodbye to her. “My princess,” he says bowing. “My prince.” He says to Rickon. “I promise that when we return the Lannisters will be dealt a horrible blow.”

“Good. The Lannisters are terrible people. They are bad.” Rickon opines.

Sansa nods in agreement. “Be safe Ser.” She says. Harry nods and then mounts his horse as do the others, as she watches them ride away she feels Bethany and Arya take her hands.

“They will be safe. I know they will.” Bethany says softly.

“Of course, they are northmen and we thrive in winter.” Sansa replies.

 


	32. The Lion King

**11 th Month of 300 A.C. Casterly Rock**

**King Daven I Lannister**

After his declaration at the Golden Tooth, Daven had known that things would not be completely simple. There would be battles that would have to be fought. He did not want to fight those battles, and shed more westermen blood, but of course it was inevitable that such a thing would happen. After all his uncle’s name echoed throughout the Westerlands and despite the fact that the man was clearly losing his touch, there was still fear about what he could or might do to those who did not support him. That had led to two battles before they had gotten to the Rock against small hosts that had been completely decimated before Daven’s army, and upon arriving at the gates of Lannisport they had found the city and the castle awaiting them. Clearly cousin Damion was smarter than most gave him credit for.

He had been officially crowned by cousin Damion on the Lion’s Throne, the seat where his ancestors had ruled as Kings of the Rock for thousands of years, and the power that emanated from the seat was something else. It was something awe inspiring and that was what Daven intended to be. Of course there was a lot that needed to be done, the Westerlands would be facing a harsh winter, and so he had begun the repairs to the kingdom that his uncle had neglected. He had begun using the gold in the Rock for good purposes the rebuilding of castles, of villages and trading with the riverlands and parts of the reach for crop and grain. There was time yet, winter had not completely set in. he knew it would be hard but he was determined to ensure his people’s safety. That did of course necessitate knowing what was happening outside of the Rock and the west. Which was one of the reasons why he had called a meeting with Damion, his wife Alysanne as well as maester Crelyen. Things were moving quickly in Westeros and it was time for him to decide what role he wished to play.

“The West is in a process of rebuilding that is inevitably, after the damage that my uncle and the Young Wolf wrought. We have the coin to afford such a thing and as such that is not the concern for today’s meeting. What I want to know is what is happening outside our borders. Crelyen you have been receiving correspondence and I would hear it.” Daven says.

The maester is an old man but sharp and quick witted. His voice is slow when he speaks. “Word has come from Oldtown it appears that Euron Greyjoy’s attack on the city has failed. The Ironborn he took with him were brutally slaughtered by the Hightowers and their bannermen as well as by other Reacher lords. As for Euron Greyjoy himself, he seems to have disappeared none know where he has gone. But for now none seem to care. What with the ever looming threat of the Targaryens. Aegon Targaryen, or someone claiming to be Aegon Targaryen has landed in the Stormlands and has taken Storm’s End. The man has slowly been advancing towards King’s Landing with ever growing support. It seems he could truly challenge Tywin and his men.”

Daven considers this a moment and then says. “That is good. The more threats and enemies Tywin faces, the less chance he has of looking westward. Tell me, has the oaf Mace Tyrell decided to send any forces this way?”

Crelyen looks down at the letters before him and says. “No he has not my king. It seems the man is too intent on fighting the forces Aegon Targaryen has rallied to his banner, including those lords from within the Reach itself who have grown tired of following Mace Tyrell.”

Daven nods. “That is good, very good. And with the Boltons done for in the north and Stannis dead there is nothing holding the Starks back from marching south. That will be one more problem for Tywin to have to deal with. Very good. I think that perhaps that is for the best. We have used up too much of our own resources during this war, with winter here we must prepare to gather all we can and rebuild. I will not commit to more fighting.”

“A smart move my king. The people of the Westerlands will look upon such a decision favourably. For it means they do not have to leave those they have left behind once before.” His wife says.

Daven nods and cousin Damion speaks. “I would not rule out an attempt by Tywin to try and retake the West once all of these threats have been dealt with. The man is too stubborn to realise when he is beaten. And if he should emerge from the fighting with the Targaryen boy alive he will turn whatever broken remenants he has left here.”

“And he will suffer for it. For by the time he is done with the Targaryen boy he will have to march across a winter strewn land, something that no sane commander would allow. The Tyrells might not even be in power anymore, certainly the Redwynes will be struggling to maintain their fleet. But just in case such a thing should come to pass, I want the fleet at Lannisport expanded. We have the resources for it, I do believe it is time we became a greater naval power.” Daven says.

His cousin nods and then says. “There is one other piece of interesting news that the men from Lannisport told me Your Grace. And that is the fact that it appears Daenerys Targaryen has finally sailed from Meeren. It appears she has come with her sellswords, and her Unsullied and her dragons to reclaim her father’s throne.”

Daven laughs. “Good. More problems for Tywin to deal with. Let him face the wrath of dragon fire. I will send no aid, nor shall I consider stirring from my lands until winter is done. And by then our enemies will have exhausted themselves on one another.”

There are murmurs of agreement then and then his wife asks. “What do you intend to do with Edmure Tully my king? After all with the Stark boy coming south, he will destroy the twins and when he does not find Edmure Tully there he will come looking for him.”

Daven looks at his wife and says. “The twins has already fallen.” There is a lot of murmuring then as his wife and cousin look worried and slightly concerned. “A raven arrived this morning informing us of the fact. Edmure Tully will be returning to Riverrun with an armed guard. I shall lead the guard that sets out from here, it is the only reason I will leave the West. I shall lead the guard and ensure that any Frey in Riverrun is either killed or made to flee. And once Riverrun is restored, Edmure Tully and his wife shall be put back into their rightful castle and we shall negotiate with the Stark king.”

“Do you think the boy will negotiate with you my king?” Damion asks.

Daven smiles. “I think he will. After all I can provide him with information about Tywin and the Lannister men in King’s Landing. I can tell him how best to deal with Jaime as well. I can provide a lot of information for him. He would be a fool not to take up this deal.”

His wife takes his hand under the table and says. “He is a Stark remember that my king. Winter is their home. It is their natural state of being. We cannot count on anything with him, now that winter is here.”

 

 

 


	33. Winter's King

**12 th Month of 300 A.C. Riverrun**

**King Jon II Stark**

He had gotten his revenge, the Freys were no more. The Twins had burned to the ground and Walder Frey and his progeny had with it. There was a grim sense of satisfaction that Jon had gotten from that act. The butchering of a family was never something that one took pleasure in, but it was something that needed to be done. There was no honour in doing it, but the Freys had no honour, their acts had shown that. All but two of them survived, Olyvar Frey who had been Robb’s squire he survived though he lacked a hand and an eye, suitable punishment for betraying his king. And then there was Edmure Tully’s bride Roslin had already given birth, but she was back now, in Riverrun along with her husband. Jon would not harm her or her babe, he was not that far gone, his desire for revenge had been sated.

Of course when he looked at Lady Catelyn and saw the scars that covered her face, he wanted to bring the Freys back to life so that he could kill them all over again. He could not do that but he would speak with her. “Are you well my lady?” he asks formally, though he desires nothing more than to hug her to see that she is real.

“I am as well as can be expected my king. There are a few hurts that will never go, but apart from that I am well and happy.” She replies.

Jon nods. “I am sorry for the losses that you have suffered had I been there perhaps they would not have happened but alas they did. And I can curse and curse that I was not there, but that will not stop the fact that they happened. I miss Robb and father truly I do.”

She takes his hand then and says. “I know you do Jon. There is no need to explain to me, I understand for I feel the same. But they are gone and they cannot come back. There is no time to mourn the dead, when the world of the living is still strong. You are safe, Winterfell is back where it belongs and Sansa and Arya are safe. As is Rickon. The family is somewhat healed. That is all that matters.”

Jon wishes he could share in her spirit but he is weighed down by the crown it is a heavy burden. He wonders if this is how his brother felt. “Bran still has not been found. I will not stop looking until he is found my lady, you have my word on that. I cannot bring Robb back but I can try and bring our family back together once more.”

Lady Catelyn takes his hand then and squeezes. “I know Jon truly I know. But for now there is a war that needs to be won. The Lannisters must be destroyed. They must be shown what it means to fight the sons of winter.”

“Aye, that is true. There are so many things that need to be done. Riverrun is back in Tully hands thanks to King Daven but there is much and more that does need to be done. The Tyrells are fighting amongst themselves and the Lannisters struggle to hold King’s Landing, we can make that final push but we need more men. The Vale is supposedly coming south and the Riverlords will be as well, but there is still more that needs to be done.” Jon replies.

Lady Catelyn nods. “Aye that is true, but never fear, the Lannisters have a way of making more enemies than friends, and if what you say is true then they will be facing internal divisions long before you reach King’s Landing. Of course there is the matter of King Daven. Do you trust the man?”

Jon is silent for a long moment and then says. “I do not know. I think he could make a good ally, he did bring Edmure and Roslin back to Riverrun. He is still a Lannister and that in itself is a worry for me.”

Mother nods. “That is a good thing, keep a close eye on him Jon. He might have brought Edmure back, but at the end of the day he is still a Lannister, and Lannisters even if they are not under Tywin Lannister’s thumb cannot be trusted. The man will have his own motives for doing what he does, and for saying what he says. Be careful of him.”

“I will mother,” Jon replies. “It is hard though knowing not whom to fully trust. I do not want to make the same mistakes that Robb made, but I do not want to seem as if I am trying to impose too much.”

His mother squeezes his hand then and replies. “You are doing well so far Jon. Truly, you have done your father and brother proud. There will be challenges along the way, there always are, but so long as you remain true to whom you believe yourself to be, you cannot go wrong. Just remember that.”

Jon looks at Lady Catelyn then the woman who had been a mother to him for as long as he can remember and he smiles slightly. “I will remember that mother. Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

She stands then and says. “I am glad I could be of service to you my king.”

Before she leaves though Jon asks. “Why are you being so good to me mother? You had no reason to be.”

Lady Catelyn stands there in the doorway for a long time before she eventually replies. “When your father brought you back home, you were a baby, a baby who could not control the circumstance of your birth. It was not right to blame you for it, and it was not right to treat you wrongly for it. You were mine to raise and so I raised you. And I love you just as much as I loved Robb.”

Jon looks at Lady Catelyn for a long time before eventually saying. “Thank you.” His voice waves he knows, but when he sees his mother merely nod and leave the room, he is left with his thoughts. He wonders just what life would have been like had Robb survived, if things would have been better if perhaps he would not feel the way he does now. There is so much he wishes he could ask, but he cannot. He just cannot ask, it would not be right.

He sits there alone for a long time, left with his thoughts, when the door opens and Satin announces King Daven. Jon stands and shakes the man’s hand. The man looks like a lion with his long hair and flowing beard. An intimidating sight. “King Daven thank you for coming please sit down.” they both sit down then and Jon takes a sip of water, whilst the lion king drinks his wine. “I must first of all thank you for bringing Lord Edmure and Lady Roslin back to Riverrun and for driving the Freys away. That is much appreciated.”

“It was no bother. Truly it was not. It was merely a matter of doing the right thing. After all the Freys were treacherous lechers who deserved whatever fate the gods saw fit to give them.” King Daven replies.

Jon nods. “Still it cannot have been easy to have gone against your family the way you have done. That takes nerves and guts. And to actively go about doing so against a man such as Tywin Lannister, that does take courage.”

He can tell that King Daven is flattered, even though the man denies it gruffly. “I merely did what needed to be done. Tywin was a tyrant who would have brought nothing more than ruin to the Westerlands and the westermen had I allowed him to go on unchecked. I did what needed to be done for the safety and health of the kingdom and its people. All else was simply part of that.”

“Still it does take a certain amount of guts to stand against Tywin Lannister and live.” Jon replies.

The man blusters. “Ach it was nothing. Now we did not come to discuss my standing up to Tywin Lannister. You are going to be marching on King’s Landing fairly soon are you not my king?” Jon nods. “Then I have ways for which you can take King’s Landing with not too many losses.”

Jon nods. “That is true. So what do you suggest then my king?”

The man is silent a moment and then he replies. “Well first and foremost attacking as one big army would be redundant. King’s Landing is well defended and my uncle would not be so foolish as to openly engage with a host that is bigger than his. However if you were to divide the host into three parts and attack simultaneously then you might well have a chance at gaining purchase.”

“Do you mean to suggest a case of drawing your uncle’s attention to different parts of the city and leaving him stranded?” Jon asks.

“Yes that is exactly what I am suggesting. The Targaryen boy will be marching to King’s Landing at the same time you are. If you were to use that to your advantage then my uncle would be trapped. Uncertain over whether to move left, right or to the centre. And as such this indecision combined with the falling morale within the city will lead to tension. The gates will fall and your men will have a chance to enter.” Daven Lannister replies.

Jon nods. “A good plan, but what makes you think your uncle would fall for it? Tywin Lannister is notoriously cautious what is there to say he does not merely wait for myself and my men to waste ourselves fighting against Aegon Targaryen?”

The smile that Daven Lannister gives him then is somewhat like what he thinks a lion looks like before it pounces on its prey. “Because my uncle will be under all kinds of pressure to react to what is coming. The Tyrells are away fighting in the Reach, the Stormlands is a mess, and Aegon Targaryen rides hard for King’s Landing. Add to this the fact that you are now in the south and are here with a lot of angry northmen and rivermen, he will be under a lot of pressure to react first and think later.”

Jon nods. “A good plan and one I am sure will work. Though I do have one question for you King Daven.”

“And what is that?” the man asks.

“Will you solidify our alliance by marching with me and my men to King’s Landing to bring down your uncle?” Jon asks.

Lannister is silent for a long time his head furrowed in concentration and eventually he smiles and replies. “Why of course. I might as well, show my uncle what a true lion looks like.”

 


	34. The End is Nigh

**12 th Month of 300 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Queen Cersei Lannister**

It was all going horribly wrong, so very wrong. Nothing was going according to plan, the death of the Stark boy was supposed to spell the end of all their troubles, and yet more had arisen. Stannis Baratheon was dead and his daughter was being held prisoner in the north, and yet Roose Bolton and any anti Stark movement had died at Winterfell, the Freys were no more, they were gone, killed at the hands of the Bloody Wolf, and the Riverlords had gone flocking back to the Stark banner like the cowards they were. Jaime was dead, sweet Jaime was dead his head had been sent back to them. It was all going horribly wrong, at least the Tyrells were not there to enforce themselves on them. That much was a positive albeit a small one. And there were wolves at the door, wolves and dragons.

She knew not how her father was able to remain so calm and composed. Inside she was screaming and raving, unable to keep her mind in control, and yet her father was calm as ever. He looked at her with indifference and that angered her. “The Starks and their allies are coming toward us with great amount of force. And yet our own men remain here. What are you doing father? They should be out there fighting the enemy.”

“Which enemy Cersei? The wolves or the dragons that come toward the city? There are too many of them, we do not have enough men to sustain such a war effort, and as such we must wait and see for which one will come first.” Her father replies in his infuriatingly calm tone.

“You want to wait? What good did waiting to for Jaime? He is dead because he listened to you and waited! His head was sent back to us, or have you forgotten? We are losing this war. The Tyrells are fighting amongst themselves in the Reach, Mace Tyrell is no doubt dead, and the Targaryen pretender marches up ever closer to us with increasing support. Stark is coming here a well, so tell me father, why are we waiting?” Cersei all but shrieks.

Her father does not even bat an eyelid at her questioning. “We wait, to see which enemy will be left standing once they are done fighting one another. If we attack now we shall be crushed and the city will fall. And yet if we wait, we shall face a tired and weary army that will not stand a chance against our more fresh men.”

Cersei looks at her father for a long moment and then says. “But our men have not fought for a single battle since the blackwater, they have become lax and lazy. They will not stand a chance against whatever host is left. And surely the people of the city will revolt when they hear we are doing nothing.”

“The people will react more worriedly if they think we consider this to be an active threat. Our scouts report Stark and Targaryen forces will meet outside the city and by the time they were done battering one another, we shall have enough of a defence mustered to make it incredibly difficult for them to even think about attacking the gates let alone entering the city.” Her father replies.

Cersei considers this a moment and then asks her father. “What about the girl. The Targaryen girl who is supposedly coming with her dragons and an army, what are we going to do about her?”

Her father looks at her as if she has said some nonsense and she cannot help but feel angry. “The girl and her army were sunk in the gullet. The Royal fleet and the Redwyne fleet managed to beat them before they even came in sight of Westeros. The girl and her dragons are no longer a problem.”

“When did this happen?” Cersei asks. “And why did you not tell me?”

“It happened relatively recently. And you did not need to know. There were others things you needed to do. On that matter, have you managed to finalise the escape route for yourself and Tommen as well as the Tyrell girl?” her father asks.

Cersei bristles slightly at the dismissive nature of her father’s reply and replies. “Yes I have. There are guards ready and waiting for us, for when things go south if they should. I still do not understand why we must take the Tyrell girl she is nothing but a nuisance.”

“Because the girl is the key to ensuring that the Tyrells remain onside. If the girl is left here then the Tyrells do not have a reason to keep fighting for us. Margaery is the only reason why they have remained with the alliance for as long as they have. Should the city fall, taking the girl with you away from the city is the only way you can ensure future support for Tommen.” Her father replies.

“Unless the girl manages to talk her way out of doing anything she does not wish to do. She is perfectly capable of doing such things.” Cersei grumbles to herself.

Her father looks at her sternly. “That is neither here nor there. The Tyrell girl wishes to be queen and so she shall follow you wherever you take Tommen. There are too many doubts over this Targaryen boy for the girl or her family to feel comfortable siding with him. And so you will take the girl with you when you leave.”

Cersei grumbles but accepts it nonetheless. “And what of Daven? Have you had any word on what he is doing?”

Her cousin was a traitor of the highest order, she had never truly liked him. He was nothing more than a second placed Lannister not even worth the name. Truly not worth the name now. Her father’s eyes harden at the name and his response is curt. “He is marching with Stark. It seems he has committed to removing us from power.”

“What!” Cersei exclaims. “What do you mean? Why has he done this?”

“Because he is a traitor, and because he wishes to remain alive. He will be dealt with when all is said and done. He only has some five hundred men with him. It will be no tall order to end the threat he poses. And besides Stark would be a fool to trust him completely. A man who is willing to betray his own kin, will betray anyone for the right price.” Her father replies calmly.

“You have a plan then?” Cersei asks hopefully.

“Yes of course. I always have a plan.” Her father replies.

Before Cersei can ask her father what his plan is, the door opens and a knight of the Kingsguard enters. “Sorry to intrude my queen, my lord. But banners have been sighted outside the city.”

Her heart hammering Cersei asks. “What sort of banners?”

“Direwolf banners.” Comes the reply.


	35. Final War

**12 th Month of 300 A.C. King’s Landing**

**King Jon II Stark**

There was snow covering the ground, but this was not the snow of the north, this was not the snow of the riverlands. No this snow was tainted by southern feet and southern smells and senses. It was something that he did not like, but he would end this day with the southerners bleeding and dead. Tywin Lannister and his family would be gone. Daven had proven correct in saying sending of men to attack different parts of the walls would draw attention but it was not Lannister men who were firing arrows down at them it was men of the city watch men who were easily killed.  That was not what interested him, not what interested him was the army that had attacked him from the rear and was causing trouble. He did not think it was a Targaryen army more likely an army from the crownlands considering where they had come from.

His sword does not rest, nor does Ghost, they fight and they fight and they continue fighting. It is something that needs to be done and if he is being truthful with himself he actually does quite like the thought of the fighting. Of the blood being spilt, anyone fighting him or his men is an enemy, an enemy that needs to be dealt with. And so his sword does not stop swinging from the moment he draws it. it is drenched with blood and still there are more enemies coming, more men and women and children even coming toward him and his men ready to die. His heart has gone cold, he does not feel guilt as he kills more and more of the people that come before him. His mind merely blurs who they are and what they are. To him they are simply another person who has come for the slaughter.

The battle continues and forces fly and fight. It is carnage, but the sort of carnage that Jon can appreciate. He does not know anything else truth be told, ever since the crown was placed on his head it has been one long fight. A fight for justice and for freedom, never again will the north ever bend to anyone from the south. Those days are long over. It is time for them to take their revenge. His sword continues on its merry path through the men and women of the crownland army. The hunger is upon him, he can feel it in Ghost as well. The desire to kill and feed without needing to worry about others. Most of the times he is able to keep that desire in place and under control but today, today he wants for it to be unleashed and for the large part it is.

He embraces his animalistic side and allows for the death to wash over him, for the carnage to disappear into the background. He and Ghost become one and so they progress forward. Their movements the same, their thoughts the same. The enemy falls before them, men, women and children slaughtered. The gates of King’s Landing are opened to them, and though another army is already in the city Jon does not truly care, he progresses through allowing his instincts to guide him. He swings his sword and allows natural movement to do the rest. Bodies fall before him, blood flows from his victims to the ground and still more come. More people willing to die, and he grins savagely and allows his feelings to disappear, the only thing he cares about now is killing.

They ride through the city, sacking, killing and pillaging as they do. Some part of Jon protests this, another part of Jon does not truly care, this is not his city, these are not his people he bears no responsibility to them. They are nothing to him and so he allows his men to give into their baser instincts. He relishes in the feeling of power that this gives him, the power the crown gives him, it is something he has tried to deny but now, now in the heat of battle he lets it all flow out and his energy continues and the feeling fills every part of his body. It is something that he has long wanted, and now he has the chance to allow it to come out. His vision blurs slightly as he feels his more animal side coming to the fore. The smells become thicker, the sounds more clear. He knows when and where an attack will come and he barks the commands for his men to prepare for them.

Whoever comes before him falls to his blade it is dripping with blood and gore. He himself is covered in the stuff, but all he knows is that he needs to continue. He needs to keep moving forward. He presses onward and his men follow. They see the destruction being sown on the city and they ride on through, not caring. Let the southerners deal with the problem once all is said and done. There is nothing more for them here other than what is in the Red Keep. That is where Jon truly desires to go. That is where his anger and his animal side are telling him to go and so he listens and he and his men push through the oncoming masses and slaughter those that do not move. His conscious is already weighed down by the lives he has taken before, these are just adding to the burden.

Onward they go, fighting through the masses. Peasants with all sorts of weapons that are not really weapons, gold cloaks who are fleeing whilst others stand firm. It is a sad state of affairs truth be told, and still there are more coming. The armies in the city are overrunning it, bleeding it dry and still people come to fight. He admires that about them, they are not afraid or if they are they are not willing to allow such a thing to stop them from pushing onward. Their bodies begin to grow, leading to the creation of a bloody trail up Aegon’s High Hill toward the Red Keep where the Lannisters sit in comfort, the cowards hiding whilst the city below them burns and dies.

He feels nothing but contempt for them, nothing but contempt. They are willing to allow others to die, simply for their own greed and vanity. His men dispatch the guards at the doors to the Red Keep and the slaughter continues as they march on through the keep. Guards are killed, servants are killed all kinds of people are murdered for being in the way. Jon knows that this is something akin to mass murder, but he does not care. These people are paying for their allegiance, they had a chance to change it and they did not take that chance. He will not allow them to live now. That is not the way, the northern way. He swore an oath and he means to keep to it. The Lannisters and their allies will die for their crimes.

The battle continues as more Lannister men appear this time armed to the teeth, it makes no matter though whether they are fighting in open fields or closed in spaces of the Red Keep, they are broken and battered. The Lannisters have lost and they know they have and yet still they continue to fight. It is something that he does not quite understand, but something he admits he admires about them. Still their blood stains his sword and the swords and weapons of his men and yet the main people he is here for are not present or have not yet come out. It is intriguing he thinks that a man such as Tywin Lannister would hide behind others than come out to die like a man, perhaps the old lion has lost its bite.

Still there is a lot of fighting, and more men and women and even children are killed as Jon and his men make their way to where he has been told the throne room is. He finds himself battling a feeling of glee as he cuts down the two Kingsguard knights standing outside the doors to the throne room, and when he enters with his men hot on his heels and sees the boy king his mother and grandfather there on the throne and its steps respectively he merely looks at them before saying. “You will die now Lannister. You will not survive.”

To his credit, Tywin Lannister does not blink he merely stands and says. “Then come and finish what your brother started boy.”

Jon smile savagely and as Ghost follows him he stops his horse and dismounts, might as well give the Lannisters a chance. He walks towards the foot of the throne where the two Kingsguard stand guard Ghost springs on one and tears his throat out whilst Jon dispatches the other with ease. Adding the man’s blood to the already blood spattered armour he is wearing. He looks up and smiles at Lannister and walks up the steps. Lannister draws his sword then and advances down the steps. The height difference makes it a harder contest than Jon was expecting, Lannister is no fool with a sword, and he does take a fair few cuts and bruises but eventually he manages to bury Longclaw into the man’s stomach pulling the sword out and watching with some satisfaction as the man falls down the steps.

He looks up at the woman and boy sitting the throne and for a moment he is reminded of Lady Catelyn and Rickon, and he hesitates. But then he remembers all that these two have cost his family and his anger fuels him. It drives him up the steps and to the woman, she tries to protest but he rips the child from her arms, and as the boy begins to cry he slits the boy’s throat quickly before moving to the side as the child falls down the steps. The woman is weeping, is crying, is pleading and Jon remembers how his mother cried when they spoke of Robb and he feels nothing but anger at this woman for causing all of this pain. He grabs her hair and shoves his sword into her chest. As she gurgles and sputters, he pulls Longclaw out of her and walks down the steps.

When he reaches the bottom of the steps he turns and stairs at the throne. There is some desire to sit it, but that desire is repressed by the contempt he feels for that ugly chair. He merely stands and watches it for a long time, wondering when the Targaryen boy will show up and take the credit for what Jon has done today. He has never spoken to the boy but he suspects that is what he is like. He does not know how long he has been standing there for when he hears footsteps behind him, somehow he knows that it is Lord Umber who has come to speak with him. “What is it?” he asks without turning round.

“The Targaryen boy is dead Your Grace. His body was found outside the red keep.” The man replies.

“Very well.” Jon replies.

“What do you wish to do with the throne?” the man asks.

Jon looks at the throne and thinks of all it has cost him and his family and the answer is a simple one. “Burn it. There will be no one kingdom anymore. There are seven and that is how it will end.” With that he turns and walks away and out of the throne room, Ghost following him. He stops when he exits the throne room and merely looks up at the sky and says softly. “I have done it Robb. I have avenged you and father.”


	36. An Epilogue

**An account of the last of the war of the kings by Maester Samwell**

_Following the battle of the three armies in King’s Landing, King Jon II Stark burned the Iron Throne to nothing more than little pieces. The reason for this decision was mainly due to the fact that the King of the North saw the Iron Throne as a Targaryen institution and with both Targaryens dead, there was no need for it to remain. After the debris and dust had settled in the ruins of King’s Landing a council was called and the lords of the realm all met to discuss what the fate of Westeros would be. After two years of war it was decided that the seven kingdoms would once again become seven kingdoms and so the kings at the end of the council of King’s Landing were King Jon II Stark King of the North and the Trident, King Daven I Lannister King of the Westerlands, King Robert Arryn King of the Mountain and Vale, King Willas I Tyrell King of the Reach (a decision that came about after his father had died fighting rebel lords in the Reach and King Willas used his skills of negotiation to bring an end to the fighting and bring peace)._

_These were the kings that were ascertained as true and right by the laws of man and god. And yet there were issues still remaining, there were no kings on the Iron Islands with the deaths of Theon and Aeron Greyjoy the mainline of House Greyjoy had come to an end, and so a Kingsmoot was called once more and after much fighting and surprise it was decided that the Iron Islands would revert to what it had been in the age of Heroes, each island had a king and that was that. The Stormlands was a greater problem and many wars were fought over control for the kingdom, as Shireen Baratheon the last of the Baratheons had no desire to venture to a place that had never welcomed her or her father and so she remained in the north as a guest of King Jon II Stark. At the conclusion of the wars, the Stormlands were divided into many a petty kingdom as there was no agreement about whom should rule. Much the same occurred in the crownlands where many lords great and small fought and squabbled. But the wars of the kingdoms is a tale for another time. Needless to say that whilst there was much concern in the south about the fighting, the northern kingdoms retained a time of peace and plenty._

_In the north, House Stark which had been so torn by the war of the five kings was brought back together. King Jon Stark was a good and noble king who healed his kingdom through trade agreements and sheer force of will. In time he would come to be known as King Jon the Great for bringing a broken kingdom up from its knees. The wildlings that had so plagued the north for generations were dealt with in the great ranging of 303 A.C. and were either killed or settled in lands on the Gift. The Night’s Watch was turned into more of a border control service with the lands beyond the wall being incorporated into the kingdom of winter. Whilst in the Riverlands King Jon took an active part in negotiating trade deals and reparations from the various enemies of the crown during the war of the five kings. Such methods ultimately helped to rebuild the broken Riverlands and turn it into a thriving kingdom. King Jon II and his wife Queen Bethany had five children, Princes Robb, Eddard, Brandon and the Princesses Lyanna and Lyarra, who became known as the realms delights. They caused trouble and delight wherever they went and House Stark once more became beloved of the people. The king’s youngest brother Prince Rickon was named Prince of a rebuilt Moat Cailin and as such became a powerful lord in his own right, staunchly loyal to Winterfell. Whilst the king’s sisters went their own ways, Princess Arya becoming the first of the new Winter Guard, an order created to serve the King and his family. Whilst the Lady Sansa in time married Ser Harrold Hardying and became the Queen of the Vale. Tyrion Lannister, a man who once would have been considered an enemy became a trusted advisor and member of King Jon’s court and was to be seen drinking and jesting with the sellsword Ser Bronn the Black._

_The Riverlands, a kingdom most affected by war was brought from the brink of economic collapse to a time of great prosperity and peace by the efforts of King Jon Stark and Lord Edmure Tully. Tully worked tirelessly to ensure the good will and fortune of his people and spent many a night away from Riverrun on business. He was beloved by the people of the Riverlands for all that he had done and achieved. He and his wife Lady Roslin established a secure Tully dynasty with five children, Hoster, Edmyn, Brynden, Bethany and Catelyn were all born in quick succession and the people of the riverlands were cheered to know the succession was indeed secure._

_In the Vale, King Robert was placed under the regency of Lord Yohn Royce, and though the child showed signs of improvement he died from a stroke in 305 A.C. at the age of only ten and three. And whilst the people of the Vale did mourn the passing of the boy king, they welcomed the ascension of the Young Falcon. Harrold Hardying now Harrold Arryn, was a good and just king. He was the very show of Knightly Chivalry and together with his wife Queen Sansa, they worked hard to ensure the safety and prosperity of their people through the winter, securing trade agreements with the other kingdoms as well as with the Free Cities. The Young Falcon and his Winter Wolf as Queen Sansa became known as had six children, all of whom were welcomed as securing the succession._

_House Lannister, a house that’s recent history had been fraught with much war and bloodshed was rescued from the abyss by King Daven I Lannister, known to history as Daven the Defiant. The man a noted warrior and commander showed some good sense in allying with the north and the Vale. For the harshness of the war was felt in the Westerlands as it was in the Riverlands. And much food and grain was provided through these alliances. Good will was built up and the stain of Tywin Lannister and his family was removed. Daven Lannister and his successors would do much to ensure the rebuilding of the Lannister name and reputation._

_House Tyrell, another house that had paid for its desire to have its blood on the Iron Throne struggled through the winter and at winter’s end was eventually more secure than it had been before. King Willas did much to ensure that the Reach remained strong and that House Tyrell continued to grow strong, and though he never married King Willas did much to encourage the development of learning in the kingdom and the rest of Westeros. His successors were his brother Garlan and his brothers’ sons and grandsons._

_The House of Baratheon, a house founded by a Bastard lived on through Lady Shireen who grew up in the cold expanses of Winterfell. She became part of the family of Winterfell and when she married Prince Rickon Stark in 310 A.C. the line of Baratheon came to an end. She lived a good and healthy life having four children before the sickness of 320 A.C. claimed her and that of her firstborn daughter._

_Aegon the Conqueror forged Westeros and changed it for good, but with the last of the Targaryens dead, the seven kingdoms became individual kingdoms once more. And so here ends the lesson for today._


End file.
